


Didn't "Figure" I'd Fall For You

by aww_writing_no



Series: Game Plans [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Hockey, Ice Skating, M/M, Winter Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 14:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15221294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aww_writing_no/pseuds/aww_writing_no
Summary: Superheroes don't get medals. Unless of course they're aiming for Olympic gold.In this non-powered AU, Clint and Natasha are pairs figure skaters who practice at Tony’s very fancy athletic complex just outside of New York City. Bucky and Steve were hockey players on the Howling Commandos, but when an accident off the ice pulls Steve and Bucky from the hockey team, will figure skating be the answer to their Olympic dreams? Or maybe another kind of dream?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I got this crazy idea for the Winterhawk Big Bang, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to make the minimum word count. 
> 
> ... it got a little out of hand.
> 
> I got paired with the amazing [buckysnowangel](https://buckysnowangel.tumblr.com) for the Big Bang, and there was some serious incoherent screeching going on when I saw their artwork.

“Man, he really sucks, doesn't he?”

Clint looked up from watching the new guy on the ice to see a well muscled figure standing next to him in the bleachers. He had his hands in the pockets of his zip-up hoodie and was staring intently at the man on the ice. “He could be better,” Clint said diplomatically.

The man laughed. “You can say that again. You can take the man out of hockey, but you can't take the hockey out of the man. I'm Bucky Barnes, by the way.”

Clint shook the hand Bucky offered him. “Clint Barton. Haven't I seen you with the hockey team?”

Bucky nodded. “Yep, I was one of the Howlies. My hockey days seem to be over now, though.” He pulled his left hand out of his pocket and Clint watched him move prosthetic fingers slowly. “The doctors want me to practice wearing this, but the weight is hard to get used to,” Bucky said, shrugging his right shoulder and causing his left arm to twitch slightly. “You do pairs skating with the scary Russian lady, right?”

It was Clint’s turn to laugh. “Her name's Natasha and she'll be so pleased to hear you say that. I'm not sufficiently intimidated by her these days.” Clint scratched the back of his head sheepishly. This Bucky seemed like a nice guy, even if he was one of the hockey players that was always trashing the ice. “You have a run in with her on the ice or something?” he asked, gesturing to Bucky’s prosthetic arm. He figured if Bucky brought it up he could too.

“Nah,” Bucky said. “Got pushed into a train. Much less exciting.”

“Aww, that’s rough, man.”

“Yeah,” Bucky admitted, absently scratching his leg. “But at least I get to come here and watch Steve making a fool out of himself. That man is not built for grace.”

Clint smiled and turned back to watch the lesson. “He does need to relax and work on his extensions,” he said. “His edges aren’t bad, but I’d expect that from a hockey player. Why’s he suddenly taking up figure skating, anyway?”

Clint had heard all the rumors of course, but everybody knew you couldn’t trust the rumors that flew around the rink. If all the rumors were to be believed, Natasha used to be a Russian assassin, Fury had eight safehouses around the city, and the hockey coach Carter carried around lipstick with a sleeping agent in it. Of course the rumor that Clint ran away to work at a circus was partially true. He’d been scouted by Cirque’s ice show at age twelve and stayed with them until Fury found him at sixteen.

Bucky frowned. “Not sure if that’s my story to tell,” he muttered, turning away slightly.

Shit, Clint thought. Maybe the rumors were true.

“Uh, you wanna go skate?” Clint asked, desperate to change the subject.

Bucky turned back to face Clint, the frown still evident on his face. “Pardon?”

“Skating. That thing you do on the ice with the knife shoes,” Clint babbled. This was awkward. He was awkward. “You wanna?” Aww, mouth, no. Why was he being so awkward?

“Dude, I can’t skate,” Bucky said incredulously. He raised his prosthetic hand and pointed to it with the other.

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Last time I checked you skated with your feet, not your hands.”

“And you’re telling me you never use your arms for skating?” Bucky asked dryly. “For little things like balance, maybe?”

“Well sure,” said Clint, “if I’m doing spins or jumps or something. I figured we’d skate around in a circle, maybe get wild and go backwards for a bit. Don’t need both arms for that, just look at the speed skaters.”

“I still don’t think that’s a great idea,” Bucky told him, though Clint could see a part of him really wanted to be out on the ice. The way he was looking at Steve was almost hungry. “I’d rather not fall on my face or break this fancy new arm.”

“What, you think I’d let you fall down?” Clint put his hand on his chest and looked pained. “I’m hurt, I really am. My whole job is making sure someone doesn’t fall down on the ice.”

Bucky snorted. “I think I’m a bit bigger than your normal partner,” he countered.

“Well, yeah, but I can pick her up with one arm and hold her over my head.” Clint struck a pose and flexed his biceps before realizing Bucky might be offended by him showing off his two arms. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Bucky smiled at him. Whew, crisis averted. “As long as you don’t want me to throw you, I’m fairly certain I can make sure you don’t fall on your pretty little face.”

“Aww, you think I’m pretty?”

Before he could respond, Fury bellowed for Clint to get his lazy backside out on the ice. Apparently he needed someone to show Steve how to execute a single axel.

“Gotta go show off,” Clint said, hopping over a row of bleachers and expertly landing on his skates. “Bring your skates next time, I’ll take you out, it’ll be fun.”

…….

Bucky stared at Clint’s back as he jogged down the steps to the rink. He really did miss being out on the ice. His doctors had said with the right prosthetic and a lot of occupational therapy he could potentially take up hockey again recreationally, but honestly he was scared. The thought of falling and only having one hand to catch himself with was terrifying. And what if he hurt his other arm? He’d be totally useless.

Bucky was so lost in thought he didn’t notice the woman who came up and stood next to him.

“What’s my partner doing with that _hockey player_?” Natasha asked. She said ‘hockey player’ like it was some kind of disease.

“AHH!” Bucky yelled. “Don’t sneak up on people like that, lady!”

“Why not? It’s fun,” she retorted. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

Bucky glared at her before responding. “He’s showing Steve how to do a single axel.”

“Why would he be doing that?” Natasha wrinkled her face in disgust. “You know what, nevermind. I don’t want to know. As long as he’s not destroying the ice with the rest of his hockey buddies he can do all the axel jumps he wants.”

Natasha turned and walked away, leaving Bucky standing there in confusion. He alternated between watching her stretch next to the rink and watching Steve try to follow Clint’s lead on the ice. Clint made the jumps and spins look effortless. Steve made them look like a battle just to stay upright.

After about fifteen minutes, Steve and Natasha traded places and Bucky walked down to meet Steve as he stepped off the ice.

“So, how bad did I look?” Steve asked as he leaned over to put on his skate guards.

Bucky bit his lip. “Pretty bad,” he admitted.

Steve laughed and slung his arm around Bucky’s neck. “Let’s stick around and see how the professionals do it. Maybe I can pick up a few pointers. I still don’t fully understand how I’m supposed to be using these toe picks.”

“Don’t look at me, man. Figure skates are weird.” Bucky paused and scuffed the floor with his shoe before turning to face Steve. “I talked to Clint,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?” Steve said, dropping his arm from Bucky’s neck so he could turn to face him properly. “He seems like a nice guy. Real helpful with the jump things.”

“He, ah,” Bucky started nervously, “he said I should bring my skates next time and he’d take me out.”

“Oh Buck, that’s swell!” Steve said, face lighting up in a grin. Bucky knew how hard it had been for Steve to keep skating when Bucky couldn’t.

“Swell? What are you, ninety? Jeez,” Bucky scoffed before turning serious again. “Do you think I should?”

“Bucky!” Steve admonished. “A cute guy offered to take you ice skating. You absolutely should go, are you kidding me?”

“I don’t think it’s like that,” said Bucky. “And what if I fall down and can’t catch myself?”

Steve stared at Bucky and blinked slowly. “Okay, first of all, have you seen the way he keeps looking over here at you? It’s totally like that. And second of all, are you seeing him skate right now? You really think he’d offer to bring you out and then let you fall down? Because I’m watching him skate and if you fell I guarantee it wouldn’t be because he couldn’t catch you.”

“He’s probably looking at me because I’m a freak with one arm,” Bucky muttered before turning to watch the pair on the ice. Okay, holy shit, Steve had a point. Clint had just picked up Natasha and tossed her through the air while she spun around and landed on one foot. Backwards.

“No, no, no!” they heard Fury bellow. “What was that? That was terrible. You looked like you were heaving a sack of potatoes, Barton! And don’t think that gives you an excuse to act like a sack of potatoes, Romanov! What were those arms doing on that landing? Do it again! Properly!”

Steve turned to Bucky and raised his eyebrows. “If that was terrible, what does that make my skating?”

“Super duper mega ultra terrible,” Bucky deadpanned and turned back to watch the pair on the ice. Clint caught his eye and winked before putting his hands on Natasha’s waist and pushing off the ice.

Steve kicked Bucky’s ankle. “I told you so.”

Well fuck. He hated it when Steve was right.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint was a little surprised when Bucky showed up at the rink with Steve the next day, hockey skates in hand. He honestly thought he wouldn’t see the man for at least another week or two, but here he was, looking scared but hopeful. Clint couldn’t say he was disappointed. 

“Hey! Bucky!” Clint called, waving dramatically. “I’m so glad you came! My offer was too good to resist, huh?” Clint gave him a dorky wink before realizing what he was doing. Bucky was going to think he was some kind of creepy weirdo and now he was never going to come back. Why did he always do this to himself? 

Bucky smiled shyly. “Yeah, I guess you could put it that way...” 

“Well, I’ll leave you kids to it,” Steve interrupted loudly. “I’ve got a lesson with Ms. Hill, and I don’t want to keep her waiting!” He ran off quickly, face faintly pink. 

“Umm,” Bucky started awkwardly, shooting a betrayed look at Steve’s back. “I'm going to need your help lacing my boots,” he admitted. 

“What? Oh yeah, sure, no problem,” Clint told him. “I help out with the tiny tots classes, so I’m great at lacing up boots for people. Not that I’m calling you a tiny tot! Not trying to say that!” Clint quickly tried to backtrack. “You’re just a normal guy with normal skates, no sparkle laces at all.” Aww, mouth. Shut up while you’re behind. 

Bucky was starting at Clint like he’d lost his mind. “Sparkle laces?” he asked. 

“Ah, they’re real popular with the six and under figure skating crowd,” Clint explained, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “Usually in pink, but personally I’m partial to the purple ones. Ha! Tongue twister.” 

Bucky shook his head, the side of his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile. “You’re a real character, you know that?” 

“I do try my best,” Clint said, gesturing to one of the benches with an elaborate bow. 

After they both got their skate situation sorted out, they headed out on the ice with the rest of the crowd. Steve was having his lesson with Fury’s assistant, Maria Hill, in the middle of the rink during an open skate session. Wobbly-kneed children pulled themselves along the wall, and shrieks of laughter could be heard echoing off the rafters. 

Clint watched Bucky carefully as he took his first steps onto the ice. The crowd flowed around the pair, but he only had eyes on Bucky. 

Bucky held onto the wall with his right hand, staring at his feet as he got used to his new center of gravity on the ice. He pushed off slowly, falling in sync with the circling crowd. Clint stayed on his left side, keeping pace alongside Bucky as he dropped his hand from the wall and slowly picked up speed on his way around the rink. 

“Your friend is staring,” Clint informed Bucky after they’d made a full lap. 

Steve was still supposed to be having his lesson, but it seemed like he was distracted. Clint couldn’t really blame him. Bucky was grinning like he was fit to burst. 

“God, I’ve missed this,” Bucky told him, skating away from the wall and heading towards Steve and Maria. 

Clint followed, keeping one arm out and hovering behind Bucky’s back in case he needed to grab him. It seemed like Clint was being overly cautious, as Bucky pivoted and came sliding to a stop a few feet from his friend. Steve was beaming almost as brightly as Bucky was. 

Maria gave Bucky a cool look before reaching down to brush the snow from his entrance off her skates. 

“Steve, I can still skate!” Bucky exclaimed, flinging his arms wide and hitting Clint in the face with the back of his left hand. “Shit,” he said, trying to turn around and overbalancing as his left arm swung down. “Shit, shit, shit.” His right arm was windmilling as his feet slid and he tried to stay on his feet. 

“Whoa, easy there Bucko,” Clint said as he easily ducked under Bucky’s flailing arms to grab him by the waist. He pulled him close and steadied him until Bucky got his feet back under control. “Let’s keep this down here, okay?” Clint said, gently taking Bucky’s prosthetic hand and putting it near his leg. 

Behind them, Steve was doubled over with laughter while Maria looked distinctly unimpressed. 

“That was amazing, please tell me that was planned,” Steve gasped between laughs. 

Bucky growled at Steve before turning to Clint. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?” he asked, reaching up to Clint’s chin and turning his head to examine his face. 

“What? No, I’m fine,” Clint told him. “I’ve gotten way worse from Natasha.” He rubbed his face self consciously before reaching up to part his hair behind his ear. “See that?” he asked, turning and pointing to a thick scar that ran about four inches across the back of his head. “That’s where Natasha kicked me one time. Officially she claims it was an accident, but everyone knows better.” 

“To be fair, you had just dropped her,” Maria commented, still looking unimpressed. 

“I didn’t say it was undeserved,” Clint said with shrug. He’d been distracted on the ice and he had totally deserved it. The subsequent stitches had definitely driven that message home. Clint smoothed his hair back down. 

“I think we have a lesson to finish,” Maria said pointedly. Clint knew she was going to be a great head coach one day. She already had that “you’re a disappointment and you can do better” attitude down pat. 

“Sorry, coach Hill,” Clint said. “We’ll take our distracting selves away from your lesson.” 

“You do that.” 

“Catch you later, Steve!” Clint waved before dragging Bucky back towards the crowds at the wall. Bucky looked pensive as he followed him back. “Penny for your thoughts?” 

Bucky hummed noncommittally. 

“You can’t be bought that easily?” Clint asked with a laugh. He poked Bucky in the side. “I’ll buy you a hamburger if you tell me what’s eating you.” 

“Why are you doing this?” Bucky asked abruptly. 

Clint turned and started skating backwards so he could face Bucky. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that,” he told him. “Why am I bribing you with hamburger? Why are we skating together? Why did I give up my glamorous life in Iowa to become a pairs figure skater?” 

Bucky frowned. “Why are you doing this for me? You spend like ten hours a day on the ice. You could be at home relaxing right now. Instead you decided to come out, skate around in boring circles, and get hit in the face by a guy you just met.” 

Clint was ready to respond with his standard glib answer until he saw the look on Bucky’s face. The man who had been laughing and smiling just a few minutes before now looked like a puppy waiting for another kick. 

Clint sighed and reached out to take both of Bucky’s hands in his. Bucky looked up, startled, and Clint started talking after they made eye contact. “It sounds like you’ve already decided why I came out here.” His thumb rubbed small circles into the back of Bucky’s right hand. “That’s fine if you want to throw yourself a pity party, but maybe don’t make assumptions about my motives because of it.” 

Bucky jerked angrily, but Clint held on to his hands and kept talking. “I came out here because I saw a guy who looked like he was dying to be out on the ice, but needed someone to tell him it’s still okay. I love this place, and I wanted to share that with someone I could tell has the same feelings about it. I may spend ten hours a day out here, but I can’t tell you the last time I came out to skate around for fun. And believe me, I was having a lot of fun until someone got mopey about my motives.” 

Bucky’s eyes flicked downwards in guilt, but Clint could see the corner of his mouth twitching up in a small smile. Victory, he thought. Score one for Barton. 

“Can I still take you up on that hamburger?” Bucky asked shyly. 

Clint beamed. Natasha was going to give him hell over coming home smelling like fryer grease, but it was totally worth it.   
……….

Bucky kept second guessing the decision to bring his skates to Steve’s next practice until he walked in the door and saw the giant smile that lit up Clint’s face when he spotted the skates in his hand. Steve gave Bucky an “I told you so” look as Clint gave him a very enthusiastic hello. Bucky was about to concede the point until Steve abandoned him, the traitor. 

He had hoped Steve would stick around long enough to help him into his skates, but it looked like he was going to have to ask Clint instead. For all the good it didn’t do, Bucky was starting to understand why his occupational therapist had told him most above elbow amputees chose not to wear a prosthesis most of the time. Bucky still felt way too self-conscious to be walking around without any kind of arm, though. The stares he got with the prosthesis were bad enough. He couldn’t handle the looks of pity he’d be getting walking around with an empty sleeve. 

Once he got back out on the ice, though… That was heaven. It felt like coming back home, like he’d been holding his breath and could finally breathe again. 

Up until the point he hit Clint in the face and would have fallen over had Clint not grabbed him. 

Bucky’s mood turned despondent, as he fell into his now-familiar spiral of grief and regret. For a brief, happy moment he’d forgotten that he was missing an arm, but just as quickly he’d come crashing back to earth. It was only thanks to Clint that he hadn’t literally gone crashing back to earth. He was never going to be good enough to play hockey again, but he’d let Clint talk him into believing for a minute or two. This whole thing was a mistake. 

Bucky grunted as Clint poked him in the side. 

“I'll buy you a hamburger if you tell me what's eating you,” Clint said with a smile that seemed entirely out of place for Bucky’s current mood.

“Why are you doing this?” Bucky blurted out without meaning to. 

If Bucky thought Clint was going to abandon his mopey ass, he was proven wrong when Clint read him the riot act. Clint wasn’t going to accept the invitation to the pity party Bucky hadn’t realized he’d been throwing himself, but after his initial shock Bucky realized he really wasn’t being fair to Clint when he’d assumed he was only hanging out with him out of pity. 

The psychologist his doctor was forcing him to see would probably have a few things to say about that. 

“Can I still take you up on that hamburger?” Bucky asked shyly. 

The smile that lit up Clint’s face was infectious, and Bucky found himself grinning too. He made himself a silent vow to keep coming back to skate with Clint as long as he would let him. This would probably end in a dumpster fire, but it would totally be worth it as long as he got to see that smile.   
……….

Bucky was sitting in a booth chewing on his hamburger when Clint leaned his elbows on the table across from him and sighed dramatically. 

“What’s up?” Bucky asked through a mouthful of hamburger. 

“I need to get to a practice session, but this was fun. When are you coming back?”

Bucky had to bite his tongue to keep from saying he’d follow Clint’s smile to hell and back. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” he heard his traitor mouth say. 

“Naw, I live at the compound, it’s fine.” Clint leaned back in the booth, stretching his arms above his head. Bucky tried not to openly stare at the way Clint’s sleeves bunched up over his biceps but was afraid he was failing miserably. 

“I don’t want to drag you back if you’ve just gotten home after a long practice,” Bucky said, tearing his eyes away from Clint’s well muscled arms. 

“No dude, I literally live there,” Clint told him with a laugh. “I have a room on site that I share with Natasha. It beats having to commute in every day, and it’s way freaking cheaper than a room in the city.” 

“Oh, well, okay then,” Bucky said, confused and a little disappointed. He shouldn’t be surprised that Clint and Natasha were an item. He’d heard that was pretty common with pairs skaters, and he really should have known better than to think Clint was flirting with him. “If you give me your number I’ll text you the next time Steve has a lesson.” 

“You could come without Steve if you wanted,” Clint said, smiling hesitantly and reaching across the table to pick up Bucky’s phone. He smiled at the lockscreen photo of the Howling Commandos before passing the phone back for Bucky to unlock. 

Now Bucky was seriously confused. Clint was acting like he was interested in Bucky, but he had just told him that he was living with Natasha. He hoped Clint wasn’t angling for a threesome kind of deal. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it really wasn’t Bucky’s kind of thing. He’d tried it once with a couple of visiting cross-country skiers and he’d just been glad when their visit was over and they went back to Sweden. There had been altogether too many limbs in one bed and it honestly felt more like a game of naked twister than anything remotely sexy. 

Bucky wordlessly handed the phone back after unlocking it. 

“Wow, trusting,” Clint said with a grin. “I could be over here deleting all your contacts or group texting lewd things to all your friends.” 

“All my friends are hockey players,” Bucky laughed. “They’re the champions of lewd texts. You should see some of the things Dum Dum sends.” 

“Oh really?” Clint asked, raising an eyebrow and scrolling through the contacts. “Aha, Dum Dum Dugan. What texts have you sent my new friend Bucky?” 

Bucky yelped and lunged across the table, but Clint leaned back and held the phone high in the air. “That wasn’t an invitation for you to go snooping through my phone!” Bucky protested loudly, reaching across the table. He grabbed a fistful of Clint’s shirt and attempted to drag him closer. 

Clint just gave him one of his heart-melting grins and squinted at the phone above his head. “Why do woodwinds make the best lovers?” he read out loud as he scrolled. “Because they can finger, tongue, and blow at the same time.” 

“Oh my god, stop,” Bucky whined, tugging futilely on Clint’s shirt. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you,” Clint singsonged and kept reading. “Why are beans the best strippers? Because they really know their way around a pole.” 

“Don’t you have a practice you need to get to?” 

“Hey, Buck,” Clint continued to read, ignoring Bucky. “I’ve got a new pickup line for you. ‘Nice skates, wanna puck?’” 

Clint snorted and leaned in to Bucky’s grip. “I’m not sure about your opinion of what constitutes a lewd text, but I think I might steal that pickup line.” 

Bucky gaped at Clint’s sudden proximity. His eyes were freakishly blue up close, and his eyelashes were unfairly long and lustrous. He was close enough to kiss, but as Bucky debated the wisdom of leaning forward and planting his lips on him, Clint stood up from the table. 

“I really do need to get to practice, but you’ve got my info now,” Clint told him, gesturing to the phone and peeling Bucky’s hand off his shirt. “Shoot me a text if you wanna skate or just hang out sometime.” Confusingly, he held his hand up to his face with his thumb and pinky out in the universal “call me” gesture before waving and heading out the door. 

It was a few minutes later when Bucky realized Clint had left without paying the bill. He sighed. So much for getting treated to a hamburger. 

_How did I end up paying for the hamburger you said you’d buy me?_ Bucky texted Clint. 

A few minutes later his phone dinged. _Shit. Sorry! Can I make it up to you tomorrow? I know a great Thai place that does takeout_. 

Bucky smiled. He could be bribed with some pad see ew.   
…….

Clint was kicking himself for standing up and leaving without giving Bucky a goodbye kiss. The setup had been perfect, and of course he chickened out. Natasha would say this was why he could never find a guy - he was a self-destructive wreck and bailed before he could make a mess of everything. 

So when he got a text from Bucky so soon after leaving, Clint got really excited. Maybe he’d get a second chance with the kissing thing? 

Or not. Clint couldn’t believe he’d been so distracted that he walked out on the bill. Shit. This is why you can’t have nice things, Barton. 

He quickly sent off a text apologising and offered to buy takeout for dinner the next night. Takeout was good. You couldn’t forget to pay for takeout because you were distracted by a hot guy inches away from your face holding on to your shirt. Natasha was never going to let him live this down. 

By the time he got back to the rink, Bucky had texted back confirming dinner for the next night, so Clint was pretty sure he didn’t hate him forever. Or at least not until he got paid back in Thai food and left Clint for someone who actually had their life together. 

Clint wondered if he maybe was overthinking this, since they weren’t even dating yet. Or at all, ever, if Clint’s lack of past relationships were any indication. Knowing his luck, Bucky was straight as an arrow and he’d be bro-zoned forever. 

“You’re late,” Natasha said when he walked in. 

Distracted, Clint gave his standard response to her standard greeting. “Sorry, I didn’t want to come.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes before walking over to sniff his shoulder. She gave him an accusing look. “You smell like french fries. Why do you smell like french fries?” 

Yup. He knew she was going to be pissed. “I took Bucky out for hamburgers after the open skate session,” he told her. “Or, I guess Bucky took Bucky out for hamburgers because I’m an idiot and forgot to pay.” 

Natasha gave him a look. “You invited a hockey player on a date and forgot to pay. I don’t know if I should be proud or horrified. There’s something seriously wrong with you.” 

“He’s not a hockey player right now!” Clint protested. Natasha’s disdain for hockey players was usually mutual, but not when said hockey players were as nice as Bucky. “Wait,” he said, Natasha’s words finally catching up with him, “it wasn’t a date! It was just hamburgers.” 

“Uh, huh,” Natasha said, unconvinced. “You went out to eat something that wasn’t stolen out of the communal fridge. You totally went on a date.” 

Clint would have been insulted by that accusation, but he kind of had to admit she had a point there. He was pretty well known for swiping unlabeled and unattended food, and it had gotten to the point where Tony had upped the rent and opted for a weekly food service come in to stock the dorm kitchen. Clint had been a little miffed when he found out his rent increase was twice the amount of everyone else’s, but he had stopped getting death threats posted on his door so maybe it was worth it. 

That still didn’t mean he went on a date with Bucky, and he told Natasha as much. 

“You keep telling yourself that,” she said sarcastically. “When are you seeing him again?” 

“Tomorrow night, dinner. I’m getting takeout.” 

Natasha raised her eyebrows. 

“I’m just making up for the hamburger bill! He probably only agreed because he wants his hamburger money back and he’s too polite to ask for the cash outright. He’s probably going to dump me as soon as he finishes eating and never come back to the rink again.” 

“How can he dump you if you’re not dating?” Natasha asked. 

Clint groaned. “I hate you so much right now.”   
……….

There was no kissing over the takeout. Natasha said Clint was a little chickenshit.


	3. Chapter 3

A month later, Bucky was still coming to the rink to skate with Clint. Sometimes he came with Steve and sometimes he came alone, but Clint got a text at least twice a week asking if he was available for skating. Clint never said no, even though he had to rearrange his schedule a few times much to Natasha’s annoyance. 

Each time they met up for skating, they ended up getting food together. Bucky always made it a point to pay the bill whenever they got hamburgers, though. Apparently he wasn’t going to let Clint live that down any time soon. 

Today they’d gotten an early breakfast before the rink opened at 8am. Clint had ended up drinking about half of Bucky’s coffee over the course of the meal, but when Bucky complained Clint just told him he got free refills and to stop griping.

Warm and happy and full of pancakes and stolen coffee, Clint was tugging the hem of his pants down over the top of his skates when out of the corner of his eye he saw Bucky yank off his skates and shove them angrily under the bench. 

“Whoa, hey, what’s going on?” Clint rushed over and asked in alarm. 

“I can’t get enough grip with the arm to lace up my skates properly,” Bucky said. He was tense with frustration and looked ready to hit something. “I’ve been practicing. I can tie my shoes now, but I can’t get the skate laces tight enough because the fucking things keep slipping.” 

Clint sat next to Bucky on the bench and put his hand on his knee. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” he asked. 

“I didn’t want to have to wait for you!” Bucky exploded, jumping up from the bench and pacing in a circle. “I didn’t want to have to wait for someone to come lace my damn skates like I’m five years old! I want to be able to lace my own skates. I want to skate without a babysitter. I want to be more than half a person.” 

“You’re more than half a person, Buck,” Clint said sadly. He’d thought they were becoming more than friends, but it seemed he was just the babysitter. That was okay, he’d get over it, but it had been nice thinking there was something there. Apparently he’d misread the signs.

Chalk it up to the usual Barton brainlessness. Nothing to see here. 

Clint startled when Bucky sat back down next to him and grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry, Clint,” Bucky said. “You’re more than just a babysitter, and I really appreciate you being there to make sure I don’t fall on my face.” He leaned over to rest his head on Clint’s shoulder. “I… I just didn’t think it’d end up like this. I thought me ‘n Stevie would be going to the Olympics with the rest of the Howlies. I thought we’d be drafted into the NHL. My biggest fear was having to play against Steve if we wound up on different teams…” 

Clint felt Bucky’s tears soaking into his shoulder, and turned to pull him into a hug. Bucky buried his face in Clint’s collarbone and gripped a handful of his shirt in his right hand. Clint just sat there, one arm wrapped around Bucky’s head and the other rubbing circles into his back. 

“Now all because of one stupid fight neither of us can play hockey and Steve sucks as a figure skater and I can’t even lace up my own skates, but neither of us can give up this stupid rink,” Bucky sobbed. “We go home to each other and pretend everything’s fine when we're full of guilt and our hearts are breaking every single fucking day.” 

Clint pressed his face into the top of Bucky’s head so he couldn’t see Clint’s reaction to that little revelation. It seemed like he really had been misreading the signs. He was an idiot. He should have realized Steve and Bucky were more than just roommates. 

Clint had to take a few steadying breaths before he could speak. “I’d be a liar if I said I knew what you were going through,” he said quietly. “But I know how the ice calls to you. I can see it in your face every time you step into this place. But even with career ending injuries you don’t need to give up the sport entirely. Look at Fury. He caught a blade to the face when his partner came down wrong from a lift, but he still coaches.” 

Bucky sniffed. “Don’t you worry that could happen to you?” 

“Sure.” Clint let out a weak chuckle. Working with Fury was a constant fucking reminder of everything he could lose. “But the ice calls to me too. Besides, Nat’s got the more dangerous job. She’s the one flying through the air at high speeds hoping I’ll catch her.” 

“What happened to Fury’s partner?” Bucky asked. “Does she still skate?” 

“Ahh,” Clint hesitated. “She, well, Fury still tried to catch her after he got half his face sliced open. But he, uh, he missed and she, she hit the ice and didn’t make it.” 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah…” Clint smoothed Bucky’s hair back off his forehead. “We work in a dangerous profession.” 

Bucky sighed. “Maybe I should just get a job bagging groceries.” 

Clint peered down at Bucky. “Is that really what you want? I can’t see that holding enough excitement for you. I think you’d be better suited as a barista where you get the adrenaline rush of being screamed at for using 2% instead of skim milk in someone’s latte.” 

Bucky laughed. “You make it sound so glamorous. Maybe I’ll try sticking with this silly skating thing after all.”   
…….

That was what Bucky loved about Clint. Bucky had been ready to lose his mind with frustration, but somehow Clint managed to calm him down and make him laugh. Unlike Steve, who just looked sad and disappointed, Clint refused to give in to Bucky’s woe-is-me attitude. 

Clint never beat around the bush or pretended that he knew what Bucky was going through, but he refused to let Bucky feel sorry for himself. 

“You know, you should talk to Tony,” Clint said, interrupting his train of thought. 

“Tony?” Bucky asked, almost adding, “Steve's boyfriend?” before catching himself. Steve wouldn't appreciate him blowing that little secret, although with the way those two looked at each other Bucky wasn’t sure how much of a secret it actually was. 

“Yeah, he’s getting really into adaptive sports equipment after we had that blind gymnast join the facility. I think he’d be all over workshopping an arm for you.” 

“We have a blind gymnast?” Bucky stared at Clint incredulously. He couldn’t tell if Clint was joking or not. “I’m gone for like three months and the place gets a blind gymnast?” 

“Yeah, his name’s Matt. Why?” 

“HOW.” Bucky couldn’t wrap his mind around this. He really had no reason to be feeling sorry for himself if there was a guy in the other building doing gymnastics blind. 

“I dunno,” Clint shrugged, unconcerned. “He walked into a trash can once.”

“Clint, I saw you walk into the same trash can three times today and you can see.” 

“I had my eyes closed.”

“No you didn’t! I was standing right next to you!” 

“Lies and slander,” Clint said, waving his hand in the air as if that could erase what Bucky had seen with his own two eyes. “Did you know Tony invented the TRX system?” 

Bucky did in fact know that. Thanks to Steve, he also knew that Tony’s father, Howard, had invented the shake weight, the thighmaster, and the ab roller. Tony liked to keep it quiet, saying his father had been a successful entrepreneur and leaving it at that. When pressed, he would wink and admit his father was in the business of making the things everyone wanted, but he tried to run a more wholesome business. Most people just assumed Howard had been in the porn industry and Tony was happy to let them assume that. 

“You want me to text him for you?” Clint asked. “You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but the guy’s brilliant. I don’t think he’d wear anything but sweatpants and hoodies if Pepper didn’t intervene, but he really knows his way around sporting equipment.” 

“Uhh, sure,” Bucky said. He wondered what Tony would think getting a text from Clint on his behalf. Poor Tony had been hearing about him from Steve for months, but Bucky had refused to let Steve put them in touch. 

“Cool,” Clint said, rapidly typing on his phone. “I think Tony will like you. You’re just broken enough to be interesting.” 

Bucky’s mouth dropped open and he blinked at Clint, unable to believe what he’d just heard. 

“Aww, mouth, no,” Clint groaned. “I said that out loud didn’t I? Shit. Natasha’s right, this is why I’m still single. No internal filter.” 

Bucky blinked again. Still single? Clint wasn’t dating Natasha? 

“Uhh, so if you don’t hate me forever now, Tony got back to me…” Clint trailed off, staring at his phone and not making eye contact with Bucky. 

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t hate you. The fact I’m broken ain’t lost on me. Just didn’t expect you to say it out loud is all.” 

Clint bit his lip and looked at Bucky. “Sorry,” he said before looking back at his phone. “That’s weird…” Clint trailed off again, scrunching up his nose in confusion. 

“What’s weird?” Bucky asked. 

“Tony said ‘It’s about time’ when I asked if he could maybe workshop an arm for you,” Clint said, cocking his head to the side and tilting his phone back and forth as if that would change the message from Tony. 

“I think Steve might’ve mentioned me to Tony a time or two,” Bucky admitted. That was a massive understatement, but Clint didn’t need to know that. 

Clint nodded. “That makes sense then. Can I give Tony your number?” 

“Sure,” Bucky said. He should probably give Steve a heads up before he found out about this from Tony and accused Bucky of going behind his back. 

“Okay, Tony says he’ll get in touch with you,” Clint said, putting away his phone. “I’m really sorry I called you broken.” 

Bucky shrugged. “It’s fine.” 

“No it’s not,” Clint told him earnestly. “You’re not broken, and that was a really shitty thing for me to say.” He reached out to grab both of Bucky’s hands in his own. “You don’t need two arms to be a whole person, and I didn’t tell you to talk to Tony so he can fix you. You’re perfect just as you are. Tony’s just giving you some tools to help level the playing field.” 

“Aww, you think I’m perfect?” Bucky asked. 

Clint rolled his eyes. “Well, not anymore I don’t.”


	4. Chapter 4

Tony took one look at Bucky’s prosthetic and shook his head. “No, no, no. This is all wrong for hockey. Where did you get this? Did you steal it off a World War II vet?” 

“Fuck you, man,” Bucky snapped. His arm might be a clunky piece of shit, but it was still his arm. “Insurance doesn’t pay for high end myoelectric arms. You can take your rich boy attitude and shove it.” 

Tony looked contrite as Bucky glared at him. “Whoa, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Tony visibly struggled to find words that wouldn’t sound as insulting as his first attempt. 

“It’s a good thing Steve likes you,” Bucky muttered under his breath. Steve had been pressuring him to talk with Tony ever since he got out of the hospital. Bucky had been against the idea until Clint brought it up after his meltdown at the rink. He hadn’t wanted to be his best friend’s boyfriend’s new project, but maybe they had a point. He was starting to rethink that idea now, though. “Since my arm is clearly not up to your standards, you gonna help me come up with a better solution or what?” 

“Right, yes. Yes. We are all about the better solutions at Stark Industries.” Tony nodded, getting back into his groove. 

“I don’t know if I’d call the shake weight a ‘better solution’,” Bucky said. 

Tony gasped. “I told Steve that in confidence!” 

Bucky shrugged, unrepentant. “There’s no secrets between me and Stevie. Not my fault you told him your daddy dearest was the king of as-seen-on-TV exercise equipment.” 

That wasn’t the only thing Steve had told him about, but it didn’t seem fair to Tony to bring up exactly how much he knew about his love life. It had seemed perfectly natural to grill Steve the first time he’d come home completely disheveled from an encounter with Tony, worried that the billionaire was taking advantage of his brother from another mother. 

After talking Bucky down from the figurative ledge and convincing him Tony wasn’t just using him for sex, Steve had started giving him periodic updates on the relationship. Bucky was happy to know that Steve was happy, but right now Bucky was realizing it was maybe a little weird that he knew how flexible Tony was because of all the yoga he did to help with his heart condition, and how that translated to the bedroom. 

Tony, blissfully ignorant of what was going through Bucky’s head, just sighed. He was probably realizing how futile telling off Steve would be. 

“So, umm,” Tony gestured to Bucky’s arm, “do you mind if I get a look at what I’m working with here?” 

Bucky blinked, pulling himself back into the present. “Sure, knock yourself out.” He reached across his body to unhook the harness and pulled off the prosthetic. He handed it to Tony, who gave it a quick inspection before placing it on one of his benches. 

Tony grabbed a tape measure off the bench and approached Bucky. “May I?” he asked, hand hovering over Bucky’s left arm. 

“That’s why I’m here, ain’t it?” Bucky said, holding his arm out for Tony to measure. 

“Yes, of course.” Tony said with a nod. “Let me know if I’m hurting you,” he told Bucky before taking a bunch of measurements and jotting them down in a notebook. When he seemed satisfied with his data, he grabbed a handful of almonds from a bowl sitting on the workbench and shoved them in his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, he made a few more notes in the notebook before absently offering the bowl to Bucky. 

Bucky scooped a handful of almonds out of the bowl and popped them into his mouth one by one. Tony looked so lost in thought he wondered if he’d forgotten Bucky was there. 

“Do you want a fancy myoelectric arm?” Tony asked, seemingly out of the blue. 

“Pardon?” 

“You mentioned them earlier,” Tony said. “I was wondering if that’s something you’re interested in, or if you wanted to stick with the simpler mechanical models. You’ll definitely want to go the mechanical route for hockey, but I could design a second one if you wanted. Totally up to you. I know they’re a lot more upkeep and you have to worry about keeping them charged, so no pressure.” 

Bucky scuffed the toe of his shoe on the ground before answering. “Thanks for offering, but I can’t afford that.” 

Tony looked confused. “That’s not what I asked. I asked if you wanted one.” Tony gestured to the workshop around them. “I might as well put this money to use. As you so aptly put it earlier, the shake weight is anything but a better solution. I may not have a chance at creating peace in our time, but I’d like the chance to make it a better place for as many people as I can. If those people happen to be blind gymnasts, one-armed hockey players, or deaf figure skaters, so be it. I can’t help everybody, but I’ll sure as hell try to help the people I can.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, taking a few seconds to absorb everything Tony had said. He was beginning to understand why Steve loved him so much. Under Tony’s self-absorbed facade was a total closet softie. 

“So, would you like a fancy myoelectric arm?” 

“Uh, yeah, that’d actually be super great,” Bucky swallowed his pride and admitted. 

“Awesome!” Tony said excitedly, like Bucky was the one doing him a favor. “I’ll just need to get a look at your arm to see where we can put the electrodes.” 

Bucky shrugged and pulled off the sock covering his arm. He braced himself for the look of shock and pity he got when people saw what was left of his arm. He couldn’t really blame them - he probably would have given himself the same look before the accident. The surgeons had done what they could, but the stump was covered in a fair amount of scar tissue. 

To Bucky’s surprise, Tony merely nodded before examining his arm with a clinical expression. He asked Bucky to rotate his shoulder to determine range of motion while scribbling furiously in a notebook. 

“Hmm, yes, okay… close to full rotation… some scarring present towards the base…” 

Bucky raised his eyebrows. 

“Hey, can you flex your arm for me?” Tony asked. 

Bucky obliged. This was a lot like what his prosthetist made him do, but it felt a little strange to be doing it in Tony’s workshop surrounded by prototype fitness gadgets.   
……….

“How was the meeting with Tony?” Clint asked the next time he saw Bucky. 

“Good?” Bucky said, unsure how to answer. There were so many things he could say about the meeting with Tony. Despite both Steve and Clint’s warnings, Tony had been entirely different than Bucky had expected. 

After Tony had finished taking all his measurements and made a cast of Bucky’s arm, they’d had an in-depth discussion of what Bucky was looking for in a prosthetic. Tony had seemed really excited to start working on prototypes for Bucky and said he had lots of ideas he needed to work through. Bucky appreciated how up-front Tony had been in regards to what Bucky should expect from the prosthetics. Nothing Tony made would be like having his arm back, but with enough practice he could have a set of useful tools at his disposal. 

“Just ‘good’?” Clint probed. 

Bucky struggled to put his thoughts into words. “I guess he wasn’t what I expected. He showed me a lot of the other stuff he’s made over the years. Everyone knows about the TRX system, but most of his other stuff is made for a really niche market. Some of it was really neat.” 

“I told you so,” Clint said with a smirk. “Tony’s great, though. Even Natasha likes him, and she doesn't like anybody. He’s really determined to make sports as inclusive as possible.”

“I can see that. Tony even mentioned a deaf figure skater.” 

“Yeah?” Clint asked. 

“That can’t be easy,” Bucky said. “Don’t you guys rely on hearing the music?”

Clint shrugged. “To an extent.”

“So, who is it? Have I met them? Is it Scott? I bet it’s Scott.” Bucky had watched some of Scott and Hope’s practices while he was waiting for either Steve or Clint. Coach Pym definitely seemed to have his work cut out for him when it came to Scott. For some reason Scott seemed to think he was smaller than he was, especially when it came to the spins. He ran into poor Hope a lot. 

Clint gave Bucky a strange look. “... It’s not Scott. But they’ll be at movie night tonight.” 

“Awesome!” Bucky said. He loved movie night at the sports compound. They had the best popcorn. “You’ll have to introduce us.”   
……….

Clint was confused. Sure, he hadn’t specifically told Bucky he was mostly deaf, but he’d kind of assumed Bucky had figured it out by now. It was sort of like being gay. Everyone just assumed you were straight, no matter how many men you kissed in front of them. 

Of course, Clint generally kept pretty quiet about his hearing loss. Haha, good one Barton, he thought. He didn’t want to be plastered around the media as “that deaf skater”, so he usually only told his close friends at the rink. He definitely wasn’t vlogging about “My Life as a Deaf Skater” or anything like that. 

Even so, he was a little surprised Bucky hadn’t picked up on all the times Clint made him repeat something he said. Which was great, Clint thought sarcastically. Bucky probably thought Clint just didn’t pay attention to him. Movie night tonight was going to be interesting...   
……….

Movie night at the sports compound was always a big production. All the athletes living in the dorms dragged beanbags and cushions into the common room, and there was an unofficial competition to try and pick the strangest movies possible. The current champion was Natasha, who had managed to find a movie about tiny sentient spaceships that decided to save an apartment complex.

Tonight was Peter’s turn to pick the movie, and he had chosen a French cartoon about an old lady who went in search for her grandson after he was kidnapped from the Tour de France. They’d put on the subtitles, so Clint could switch off his t-coil. It wasn’t like he’d understand the French being blasted into his ears anyway. 

Clint was sitting on one of the couches nestled between Natasha and Bucky while the teenage gymnasts sprawled on the floor in beanbags. Clint was wearing his favorite purple sweats, and the socks Natasha had given him with little cartoon coffee mugs on them. His big toe was poking out a hole in one of the socks, but he loved the socks too much to stop wearing them. 

Natasha had a bowl of kettle corn in her lap that she was guarding fiercely while Clint and Bucky shared a bowl of regular popcorn. Clint wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was cuddling up to Bucky a bit more than was strictly necessary with the amount of room on the couch. 

After berating Natasha for not telling him Bucky was dating Steve, Clint had found out that Bucky was in fact NOT dating Steve. Apparently Steve and Tony were an item. Who knew? Well, besides Natasha. But she didn’t count because she always knew everything. 

Either way, Clint was happy to be able to cuddle up to Bucky guilt-free.

Bucky kept glancing around the room, as if trying to spot the mysterious deaf skater. Clint wondered when Bucky was going to realize the only figure skaters in the room were Clint and Natasha. 

Natasha tapped Clint’s arm to get his attention. “ _What’s he doing?_ ” she signed subtly behind the bowl of popcorn. 

“ _Later_ ,” Clint signed near his hip. 

Natasha shrugged and stuffed a handful of kettle corn in her mouth. 

Clint went back to watching the television. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on, since he’d been looking away to watch Bucky and chat with Natasha. It looked like the grandma had met up with three more old ladies, and all four of them were breaking into a building along with a really fat dog. 

Bucky murmured something on Clint’s left. 

“I’m sorry,” Clint said, turning to face Bucky, “I didn’t catch that.” 

“I asked why you guys always watch foreign language films with subtitles,” Bucky repeated. His eyes widened. “Wait. Wait, that’s because of the deaf skater, right?” 

Clint blinked slowly. It was now or never, he guessed. “We sometimes watch movies in English, but Peter is studying French and Shuri is studying Korean because she’s difficult like that. They end up picking a lot of foreign language films for movie nights. But yes, the subtitles help. Tony also installed a loop in the common room that transmits directly from the TV and stereo into my hearing aids.” 

“Your what? Wait. Wait! It’s you?” Bucky exclaimed, turning to face Clint more fully. “I totally thought it was Peter with the way he’s staring at the TV.” 

Clint sighed, hearing a muffled cackling coming from Natasha’s direction. “Peter’s a gymnast,” he told Bucky. 

“Oh.” 

Clint could practically see the gears spinning in Bucky’s head as he wrapped his mind around the new information. 

“Okay,” he said finally. 

“That’s it?” Clint asked, even more confused now. After all of Bucky’s obsession over meeting the deaf skater, his response was just “okay”? 

“Sure,” Bucky said, throwing his right arm around Clint’s shoulders and giving him a squeeze. “I’ve got lots of questions, but they can wait. I want to finish watching this weird French movie with you.” 

“Oh,” Clint said softly. 

Clint spent the rest of the movie in a sort of daze, snug under Bucky’s arm. Occasionally Bucky would nudge him and Clint would feed him pieces of popcorn, trying not to act too giddy about it. 

When the movie was over, Clint turned his head to face Bucky. The proximity was dizzying. “I don’t want to get up,” he told Bucky, feeling heat creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. He was probably blushing horribly. 

“I… I don’t know if I actually can,” Bucky admitted. “But I don’t mind staying like this for a while. It’s nice.” 

“Yeah?” Clint asked hopefully. 

“Yeah,” Bucky smiled, resting his chin on Clint’s shoulder. “You know what’d be nicer, though?” 

“No?” Clint said questioningly. 

“If you kissed me.” 

Clint felt his stomach clench. He couldn’t possibly have heard that correctly. “C-could you repeat that?” he asked. 

Bucky laughed. “Kiss me, you idiot.” 

Clint didn’t have to be asked twice. Well, actually, he kind of did, but that was beside the point because he was kissing Bucky. Oh my god, he was actually kissing Bucky. 

Bucky leaned into the kiss, using his hand to pet the back of Clint’s head. Clint responded by wrapping both arms around Bucky, hands roaming up and down Bucky’s back. 

When they finally let go of each other, Shuri and Peter were staring at them, mouths gaping. Jessica, the weightlifter, was smirking from the other couch and clapping softly. 

“Nothing to see here, kids,” Natasha said loudly, getting up from the couch to stand in front of Clint and Bucky. She kicked Clint in the ankle to get his attention, and when she was sure he was looking she gave him a meaningful look and said “Pah!” while flicking her hands out in a practiced gesture. 

“What was that?” Bucky asked, watching Natasha warily as she walked out of the common room. 

Clint rubbed his face with embarrassment. “It means ‘finally’,” he grudgingly admitted. 

Bucky looked thoughtful. “You know, I hate to say it, but I think I’m inclined to agree with her on this one.” 

“Yeah,” Shuri piped up from her beanbag on the floor. “Clint’s been mooning over you for a month now, it’s about time you guys hooked up for real.” 

“Except you’re a hockey player,” Peter complained. “What’s with that?” 

Bucky looked affronted. “Hey now, what’s with all the hockey player hate?” He glanced at Clint, looking for an explanation. 

“You trash the ice,” Clint said, giving him a loving peck on the cheek. 

“You wear helmets,” Shuri added, rolling her eyes disdainfully. Clint wasn’t sure if it was over the kiss, the helmets, or both. 

“It’s cold,” Peter said. 

All four heads turned to stare at Peter. 

“Oh course it’s cold, iidiota!” Shuri snapped before ratting off a few sentences in Spanish.

Peter huffed and responded back in Spanish. 

Clint’s Spanish was rough at best, so he only caught a few words when they lapsed back into English. Did Shuri really just say “thermoregulate”? 

“Are you catching any of this?” he whispered to Bucky. 

“I think they’re arguing over spiders being cold blooded,” Bucky told him, confusion showing on his face. “What do you say we blow this joint and find some place with more privacy?” 

“That sounds awesome,” Clint said, getting up from the couch and helping Bucky to his feet. He was all over leaving the bickering teenagers behind and finding a nice quiet spot to pick up the kissing thing. Kissing Bucky was awesome, and he fully intended to keep doing so as long as Bucky would let him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a racial slur in this chapter that I felt dirty even writing. Ugh. Hydra is the worst.

Bucky’s life had definitely improved over the last few months. He was officially dating Clint, Coach Carter had let him back on the Howling Commandos on probation, and Tony had not only made him two prosthetics, but had also invented hockey skates with ratcheting straps that he could tighten with one hand. 

In fact, the ratcheting skates had gone over so well that all the Howlies had demanded pairs when they saw Bucky’s. Once other teams had seen them on the Howlies, they had demanded to know where they’d gotten them. Now Tony had a contract with the NHL and the skates were so popular that they were on a three month manufacturing backorder. 

Life was good. 

Tonight everyone was going out to dinner to celebrate Natasha and Clint qualifying for Worlds. Apparently this wasn’t a particular surprise to anyone in the figure skating world, but Tony had insisted on the dinner anyway. He never pressured any of his athletes to compete, but he did like to acknowledge the hard work of the ones who did.

When Bucky had asked about the seeming double-standard, Tony had laughed and said that he was just appreciating a good investment. There were a lot of athletic complexes out there, and he was always happy when elite athletes decided to choose his. 

Bucky could understand that, but the fact that the Stark Industries Athletic Complex was known as the premier training facility on the East Coast probably had a lot to do with attracting those elite athletes. Tony sunk a lot of his time and money into the technology going into the facility, and it showed. If you wanted to work with the newest and shiniest, you came to the Stark Industries. 

During the dinner Bucky said as much to Pepper, the Stark CEO and unofficial dorm mom. She gave him a pleased smile and told him she was happy to hear him say that. She also mentioned that Tony was looking to update the complex with the money coming in from from the ratcheting skate sales. 

“Of course we’re ADA compliant, but working with you and Clint and Matt, we’re realizing there’s so much more we can do in terms of inclusivity and adaptability. Sports are for everyone, and we want everyone to be able to use our facility.” 

“I, for one, am extremely grateful for that,” Bucky was able to admit without shame. “I can't believe how generous he's been.” 

Pepper smiled. “As much as Tony claims to be heartless, we all know better.” 

“Hey now!” Tony interrupted, leaning across Steve to glare at Pepper. “I’m totally heartless.” He knocked on his chest for emphasis. “One hundred percent cardiac deficient, with the scar to prove it. Becoming heartless just meant I realized life is too short to waste on being selfish.” 

“Amen to that,” Bucky said, raising a glass in his prosthetic hand.  
……….

Clint didn’t know why Tony insisted on making a big fuss every time he and Nat qualified for some competition. They’d qualified for pretty much every competition they’d entered in the five years they’d been skating together. The only reason they hadn’t qualified for the last Olympics was because they’d both been laid up with injuries after a bad throw jump during practice, something which Natasha had yet to forgive Clint for. Clint maintained they had been equally at fault for that one, but Natasha refused to agree. Fury, of course, refused to take sides. 

Clint supposed he shouldn’t complain about a free dinner, though. Tony was treating, and this Italian place sure beat the cold pizza he’d normally be eating for dinner. He was about to stick a forkful of linguine in his mouth when he heard something in Natasha’s voice that caused him to swivel his head towards her in alarm. 

“So, what’s your deal?” Natasha asked Steve sweetly, leaning her elbows on the table and steepling her fingers over her ravioli. 

His brows furrowed. “My deal?” 

“Yes, your deal. Hockey players don’t suddenly take up figure skating without a good reason. So what’s your deal?” Natasha pressed. 

Clint felt the hand resting on his thigh tighten as Bucky suddenly went very stiff. 

“I wanted to look pretty,” Steve said deadpan, aggressively not breaking eye contact with Natasha. 

Bucky’s other hand twiched, and the fork he was holding clattered against the plate. 

Natasha glanced briefly in their direction before turning her attention back to Steve. “Oh really?” she asked, giving him a feral smile, and propping her elbow on the table. She rested her chin on her fist and stared at him expectantly. 

“Nat…” Clint said warningly. It wasn’t that he wasn’t curious too, but this was clearly upsetting Bucky and Natasha didn’t have to be so blatant about it. 

“What?” she asked Clint, voice full of aggression. “You’re a liar if you’re not curious about his tragic backstory.” 

The hand on Clint’s thigh twitched again. 

“C’mon, Cap, tell us why you’re learning the camel spin instead of captaining the hockey team,” Nat wheedled. “We’ll tell you ours if you tell us yours. You can hear all about Clint running away to join the circus.” 

“The circus?” Bucky whispered in Clint’s ear. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Clint whispered back, petting Bucky’s hand under the table. 

“Fine.” Steve huffed and stuck out his chin. Clearly he was not one to back down from a fight. “I got banned from the hockey league because I got into a fight with another team. Fury saw me skulking around the rink and asked if I’d ever heard of figure skating. I said yes, and now I’m here with you delightful bunch.” 

Clint laughed. “I am pretty delightful,” he said. 

Natasha wasn’t having any of it, though. “Hockey players get into fights all the time. They get sent to the time out corner, not banned from the sport. What’d you do, kill someone?” 

“It’s called the sin bin and no, but they would have deserved it,” Steve snapped. “They fucking almost killed Bucky, okay?” 

Every head at the table whipped around to stare at Bucky. 

“I guess we’re doing this,” he sighed.  
……….

Bucky didn’t really want to be the one to tell this story, but Steve still hadn’t gotten over his anger enough to tell the story coherently. He thought it was ironic that he was the one that lost the arm, but Steve was the one who couldn’t get over it. Not that Bucky was truly “over it” by any means, but he did seem to have a little more perspective than Steve did. 

“So,” Bucky started, “Steve and I were heading to a hockey game and waiting for the F at Smith and Ninth when we heard some guys making really nasty comments about one of the ladies waiting with us on the platform. We went over to tell them to knock it off, and we found out they were Hydra players going to the same game as us. Steve told them we weren’t going to stand for any of that racist talk, but of course they got really aggressive and asked what we thought we were going to do about it.” 

“Wrong question,” Natasha muttered quietly. 

“You’re fuckin’ right, wrong question,” Bucky continued. “Anyway, after some more yelling, one of the Hydra guys ended up throwing a punch. We all had our gear with us, so it became a big mess real fast. One of them swung at me with their duffel, and since it was winter I ended up slipping on a patch of ice when the duffel connected.” 

Bucky took a deep breath and Clint squeezed his hand for support. “Yeah, so I went down like a brick and as I was trying to catch myself my arm slid into that gap they always warn you to stand back from. It was my shitty luck that the train we were waiting for was just arriving.” 

Pepper blanched and made a small squeak of horror, clapping her hands over her mouth. Bucky noticed Tony slip his hand under the table, probably to hold Steve who was staring resolutely at his mashed potatoes, brow furrowed. 

“I got dragged maybe fifty feet until the train stopped? I dunno, the adrenaline had kicked in pretty hard by then. I think I was tellin’ Steve he needed to hurry up and get on the train to be on time for the game and I’d be along as soon as the doctors got my arm in a cast.” 

Steve looked up from the potatoes to glare at his friend. “Yeah, meanwhile the Hydra guys all ran off and everyone’s screaming and the moron can’t see his arm’s barely attached and he’s bleedin’ all over the place.” 

“Turns out it was a good thing it was so cold out that day,” Bucky said. “Elsewise I’d probably have bled out before the ambulance got there.” 

Bucky felt Clint squeeze his hand again before Steve decided to take over the story. 

“It was way too fuckin’ close a thing,” Steve growled, eyes flashing in anger. “And I got detained by the goddamn police to give a statement so I couldn’t even go with him to the hospital. By the time I got to Cobble Hill, I found out he’d already been airlifted to the Trauma 1 in Sunset Park.” 

“And that was a thing, let me tell you,” Bucky interrupted. “Maybe it was a combination of the drugs and the shock, but that ride was something. Felt like being stuffed into one of those amusement park rides where you’re strapped in to the gills and it’s loud and whooshy and you don’t know which way is up anymore. Except you also have a couple people staring down at you telling you you’re gonna to be all right and not to worry.” 

Clint made a high pitched whine and scooted his chair closer to Bucky. Bucky leaned his head on Clint’s shoulder and decided to allow Steve to continue telling the story. 

“By the time I got to Sunset Park, Bucky was in surgery. Bucky was in surgery for twelve hours. When the doctor finally came out to tell us what was going on, the entire Barnes family was in that waiting room. When she told us Bucky had pulled through the surgery, I thought Mrs. Barnes was going to faint with relief. Then she told us they weren’t able to save his arm, and his sister Becca punched me right in the face. Since Bucky was the one who taught her to throw a punch, I had a black eye for over a week.” 

“What?!” Bucky asked, sitting up straight. “You never told me that!” Sure, Steve had had a nice shiner, but he’d just assumed he’d gotten it in the fight with the Hydra players. He didn’t know it had been from his little sister. Bucky’s emotions warred between being proud of Becca’s abilities, and anger over his best friend keeping this secret from him. 

“You never asked,” Steve said, sticking out his chin defiantly. 

Bucky blew out an exasperated breath. “Seriously? We’d just been in a brawl. I lost my arm! Why would I ask if you got beat up by my kid sister?” 

Steve had the decency to look sheepish. “We made up over it before you woke up from the surgery. Besides, I figured I deserved it.” 

“Steve…” 

“Leave it, Buck. It’s fine.” 

Even though it was very much not fine, Bucky decided to leave that battle for another day and went back to leaning his head on Clint’s shoulder. It sounded like he and Steve were going to have words again about how it wasn’t Steve’s fault Bucky got hit by a train. 

“This is all very tragic, but I’m failing to see how this relates to you getting kicked out of hockey forever,” Natasha drawled. 

“Nat!” Clint snapped, jostling Bucky’s head as he leaned across the table to glare at her. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you today?” 

Natasha shrugged, unrepentant. 

Bucky tugged on Clint’s arm to pull him back against the chair. Clint seemed reluctant to let it go, but eventually gave in to Bucky’s wordless request. He wasn’t sure why Clint was acting so shocked. Steve and Bucky had never gotten anything besides frosty indifference or outright aggression from Natasha. There was a reason Bucky had called her the scary Russian lady when he first met Clint. 

Bucky put his head back on Clint’s shoulder and waited for Steve to continue the story.

Once Steve seemed to decide he and Natasha had been staring at each other long enough, he said, “I’m getting to that.” 

“Since both teams were missing a couple of players, the game against Hydra got rescheduled for the next week. Coach Peggy wasn’t real keen on putting me in the game because she thought I was too upset with the Hydra players to focus. I argued that I needed to help win the game for Bucky, so she finally relented.” 

“I can’t believe she bought into that,” Bucky muttered quietly into Clint’s ear. 

Steve shot Bucky a look. “Anyway, the Howlies were up by two and the Hydra coach called a time-out. I overheard him telling his team they needed to step up their offense because we were playing our alternate goalie and saying some really awful stuff about Bucky. I kind of lost it. The next thing I knew I was across the ice jumping into their bench area and wading through Hydras trying to get to that evil Coach Red.” 

“Oh my gosh, Steve,” Pepper blurted out, horror evident on her face. 

“Our Stevie’s got a temper,” Bucky said. “Though I’d have been right behind him if I’d been at the game and heard that too.” 

“I’d defend your honor too,” Clint murmured. 

“Oh, it wasn’t just my honor he was defending,” Bucky said with a dry laugh. “You gonna tell them what Coach Red said, or you gonna let them all think you trashed your hockey career for little ol’ me?” 

Steve glared at Bucky again. Bucky wasn't sure why he bothered anymore. He should have known this part would come up if they were telling this story. 

“He said it was too bad our star goalie was missing, and that he hoped it was worth defending that stupid raghead.” Steve said the last words like they were painful to even get out of his mouth. 

“For the record, it was worth it,” Bucky said into the shocked silence. Not even Natasha had anything clever to say about that awful slur. 

Steve nodded. “I wasn’t the only one kicked out of the league. Hydra got disbanded and Coach Red was not too kindly told to leave. He won’t be poisoning any more teams with his hateful rhetoric.” 

Bucky looked down at Clint, who had turned the tables and shoved his face into Bucky’s shoulder. Clint knew that some days Bucky didn’t think it was worth it, but he was staying mercifully silent. The truth was, he blamed himself for Steve getting kicked off the team just as much as Steve blamed himself for Bucky losing his arm. And if he was going to be completely honest, Bucky had to keep reminding himself they did the right thing. That if they had to do it over, he wouldn’t stand by while someone else got harrassed. 

“So,” Bucky said with forced cheer, “who’s up for dessert?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand... things start going downhill.

It had been an exhausting day at the rink when Clint limped into Bucky’s apartment. Their choreographer had wanted to try out some new sequences with Clint and Natasha, and Clint just wasn’t getting some of the transitional footwork. Coulson had made them go over the same sequence over and over again, while Nat and Fury had gotten increasingly frustrated with Clint. It wasn’t fair that Nat had it down practically on the first try. 

At least he got to come home to Bucky. That was what Clint had to keep telling himself as he’d struggled to get through the rest of the practice. Clint shouted a hello to Bucky who was lounging on the couch before heading into the kitchen and opening the freezer. 

“You got any peas in here?” 

“Top right, might be under the pizzas!” Bucky shouted from the living room. 

Ahh, there they were. Clint grabbed a bag of peas and held them to his knee with a sigh. A few moments later he felt an arm wrap around his waist. Bucky hooked his chin over Clint’s shoulder and gave him a peck on the cheek. 

“What did you do this time?” 

“Twisted my knee when I landed a jump wrong,” Clint said. 

“You shouldn’t do that,” Bucky said, nodding and poking his chin into Clint’s shoulder with each head bob. 

Clint smiled and pivoted to face Bucky. “Really? You sure about that?” 

“Pretty sure,” Bucky informed him. “You need me to kiss it better?” 

“Hmm, probably.” 

Clint grinned as Bucky dropped to his knees, sliding his hand down Clint’s body to cup the back of his knee and planting a kiss above the joint. 

“Better?” 

“I dunno, you better try it again.” 

Bucky grinned impishly up at Clint before leaning in to pepper the knee with kisses. Some were feather light, so light he could barely feel them through the thin sweats he’d put on after practice. Others were harder, almost aggressive, which he definitely felt. 

Bucky’s hand slowly wandered up and down Clint’s thigh, massaging the tight muscles he found there. Clint let out a moan as the bag of peas fell from his hands, bracing himself against the counter. 

“Feel better?” Bucky asked, looking at him with hooded eyes. 

“Starting to,” Clint replied, “just a little.”

Bucky slowly raised himself on his knees, nipping at the hem of Clint’s shirt, hand running up Clint’s side in a way that made him shudder. “I know how to make it all better.”

Clint smiled back sopily, blood no longer pooling to his knee as his body found a much more interesting place to swell. “I’m sure you do…”

“Hmm,” Bucky said, eyeing the growing bulge in Clint’s pants and raising an eyebrow. “Whatever should I do about that?” 

He leaned back on his heels and placed his hand on his chin, feigning confusion. Clint whined as the hand was removed and made grabby motions towards Bucky. 

Bucky swatted Clint’s hands away before seeming to come to a conclusion. Raising himself onto one knee, he angled his right shoulder into Clint’s stomach and quickly stood, lifting Clint who let out a small squeak of surprise. His hand cradled the small of Clint’s back, stabilizing him as he walked them into his bedroom. 

This was so hot, Clint thought, bracing himself with a hand on Bucky and using the opportunity to feel the hard muscles running down his back. Bucky grunted as Clint dug the heel of his palm into a knotted muscle. Oh man, so hot. Note to self: get manhandled by Bucky more often. 

“You really know how to sweep a guy off his feet.” 

Bucky let out a long groan before tossing Clint onto the bed. “That was so bad. I should go back to watching _Cake Boss_ and let you suffer in here alone.” 

Clint shot Bucky a pleading look. “But you might need to kiss my knee better again. How can you do that from the living room? I’m clearly too weak to make it all the way over there.” 

“Your knee, huh?” Bucky asked, eyeing Clint with a hand on his hip. “I don’t think we’ll be doing your knee any good if we keep this up tonight...”   
……….

When Clint woke up the next morning, it felt like his knee had swollen up rather alarmingly. He tried experimentally bending it and let out a quiet hiss as waves of pain radiated out from his knee. 

“Well, fuck,” he said quietly as he relaxed his leg. Natasha was going to be so pissed. 

Clint let out a dramatic sigh that ruffled Bucky’s hair from where he was draped across Clint’s chest. He had his arm wrapped under Clint’s shoulder and was drooling on Clint’s shirt. 

Clint slowly eased himself out from under Bucky and limped his way into the kitchen. He really hoped Bucky kept more than one bag of peas, because the bag from last night was lying on the floor in a puddle of water, forgotten and mushy. 

He tossed the soggy bag of peas in the sink and dropped a dish towel over the puddle before he forgot about it and slipped. Opening the freezer, Clint checked under the pizzas for more peas. He seemed to be out of luck, but he did find a bag of corn buried under some chocolate sorbet. Clint shook his head, hoping the sorbet belonged to Steve. He didn’t know if he could date someone who bought chocolate sorbet. Seriously, chocolate belonged to ice cream, and he would fight anyone who thought differently. 

Clint dropped the corn and nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt an arm wrap around his waist. “Ahh!” he yelled, whipping around to find Bucky behind him, looking surprised. 

“Oh my god, don’t do that!” Clint scolded. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed and his lips moved in what looked like an apology. 

“I don’t have my ears in,” Clint explained and watched as Bucky’s eyebrows went up in understanding. 

“ _Sorry_ ,” he signed before picking up the dropped corn and handing them to Clint. He gave Clint’s knee a pointed look, then raised an eyebrow questioningly. 

“Yeah...” Clint said with a sigh. “You were maybe right about last night’s activities not being a great idea. Nat’s probably gonna murder me when I get to practice today.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but seemed to change his mind and shook his head instead. He held up a finger, telling Clint to wait, and headed into Steve’s room. Bucky came back dragging Steve’s rolling office chair and gestured for Clint to take a seat. 

Once Clint was settled in the chair, Bucky headed into the living room, pulling Clint behind him. He swiveled Clint around to face the coffee table, then pointed to Clint’s leg and the table. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get the picture,” Clint grumbled, propping his leg up, resigned. Bucky was such a mother hen sometimes. 

A few moments later, Clint found his hearing aids being pressed into his hand. “Thanks,” he murmured. 

Bucky waited until Clint nodded that they were on before saying, “No problem. Sorry I scared you earlier.” 

“It’s okay,” Clint said, adjusting the bag of corn on his knee. “You guys don’t happen to have a knee brace, do you?” 

Bucky shook his head. “Sorry, we’re fresh out.” He leaned over the back of the chair and gave Clint a peck on the forehead. “Let me rustle up an elastic wrap and some painkillers for you.” 

“And coffee!” Clint called after him. 

Bucky, mother hen that he was, not only dug up an elastic wrap, but insisted on wrapping Clint’s knee for him. When he was satisfied, he planted a kiss on the knee and tucked in the loose end of the bandage. 

“I think the coffee’s ready,” Clint said plaintively. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Only care about the coffee. I see how it is.” 

Clint batted his eyelashes while Bucky laughed at him. He heard Bucky rummaging in the bathroom before a bottle of pills came flying through the air and landed in his lap. He started opening the bottle as Bucky headed into the kitchen. 

Clint read the label on the bottle Bucky had tossed him and suddenly felt like the floor had dropped out from under his seat. His stomach was doing flip flops as his vision narrowed and his ears felt like they were buzzing. 

“Bucky, where did you get these?” he heard himself asking. 

Bucky shrugged and looked over his shoulder. “I don’t remember, why?” 

“Bucky,” Clint said, voice quavering, “this is oxycodone. You can’t just get these at the store.” 

“It’s what they gave me after the accident,” Bucky told Clint, handing him a mug of coffee. “There’s a kid that sells it outside the Stark complex, so I picked some up for a rainy day.” 

“That’s… Bucky, that’s illegal. What do you think you’re doing?” Clint could not believe this was happening right now. 

“It’s a kid, Clint, how bad could it be?” 

Clint buried his face in his hands. “These are prescription painkillers. This is super duper illegal. They’re called a controlled substance for a reason.” 

“You’re acting like I’m a coke dealer,” Bucky said. “It’s just roxy, chill.” 

Clint closed his eyes to fight off the sudden nausea. “Roxy?” Clint asked. “You’re using the street name? Bucky, how much of this are you taking?” 

“I told you, I just keep it around for a rainy day. It’s fine Clint, stop overreacting.” 

Clint had to take a few calming breaths before he started shouting. “I’m really not overreacting, Bucky. How many of these are you taking?” 

Bucky shrugged, apparently unconcerned. “I only take them when the phantom limb starts acting up. It’s not that big a deal. The doctors prescribed them after the accident.” 

Clint’s hand shook as he placed the bottle of pills on the table in front of him. Suddenly a lot of Bucky’s strange behavior over the last couple of months was starting to make sense. Clint had a feeling Bucky was seriously underestimating the number of pills he was taking. Fuck. 

“Bucky,” he started slowly. He shouldn’t be the one doing this. He wasn’t equipped for this. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was going to fuck this up and Bucky was going to start shooting up heroin and overdose and die and it would be all his fault. “You know there’s a reason doctors only prescribe these for short term use. It’s super easy to get addicted.” 

Bucky dropped onto the sofa next to Clint. “I’m not addicted, stop worrying. I can get you some of Steve’s aspirin if you want that instead.” 

“That’s not the problem,” Clint told him. He’d actually forgotten all about his knee. “I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about you. You… you haven’t taken any heroin have you?” 

“Heroin?” Bucky snorted, “What are you going on about? Of course I haven’t taken heroin.” He laughed. “I can’t believe you, did you hit your head in that fall yesterday?” 

Clint’s head was spinning. He couldn’t believe Bucky didn’t seem at all concerned about this. 

“You’re illegally buying prescription painkillers! It’s a valid question! How should I know what other drugs you’re using?!” Clint shouted. So much for trying to remain calm. 

Finally Bucky looked upset. “I can’t believe you’re accusing me of doing heroin! What kind of person do you think I am?” 

“The kind that gets addicted to oxy, apparently!” 

“I’m not addicted, I told you!” 

“You’re buying drugs off a kid on the street! That’s absolutely addiction!” 

“I got my fucking arm cut off!” Bucky shouted, waving his stump in Clint’s face. “Give me a fucking break!” 

“You know what?” Clint said, standing up and dropping the now soggy bag of corn on the coffee table next to the pill bottle, “I can’t deal with this. I’m out of here. Don’t come crying to me when you get kicked off the hockey team for doing drugs.” 

Bucky’s arm shot out and latched on to Clint’s wrist as he turned to walk away. 

“Bucky?”

“You can’t tell Coach Peggy,” Bucky whispered raggedly. “Promise me you won’t tell Peggy.”

Clint sighed. “Bucky, you know I can’t promise that.” 

The grip on his wrist tightened. “Clint, you gotta promise me. She can’t know.” 

Clint stared at Bucky. This couldn’t be happening. This seriously couldn’t be happening. Did Bucky not realize he sounded like every drug addict ever? 

“Bucky, you know you can’t hide this from her. I don’t have to be the one to tell her, but somebody needs to.” 

Bucky’s grip tightened even more, but Clint winced and soldiered on. “You can be the one to tell her. If you want we can go tell her together, but you can’t expect me to lie for you.” 

“I’m still on probation. She’ll kick me off the team,” Bucky whimpered, still gripping Clint’s wrist. “Hockey’s all I got.” His voice sounded strangled and he tugged on Clint for emphasis. 

“Fuckin’ ow.” Clint was going to have Bucky’s handprint permanently imprinted on his wrist at this rate. 

Bucky dropped his arm like a hot coal and curled in on himself. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t tell Coach. Please.” 

Clint closed his eyes before he turned his back on Bucky. It felt like his heart had shattered into a million pieces and they were threatening to leak out through his eyes. “I’m sorry Buck. I can’t promise you that. I’ve got to get to practice.” 

It took every ounce of his will to walk out the door without looking back. Shutting the door behind him, he made it to the end of the hallway before leaning his forehead against the wall and sobbing.


	7. Chapter 7

When Clint finally got to practice, he pulled a pair of purple wrist-warmers over his arms. He didn’t need Natasha and Fury asking awkward questions about the bruises on his wrist. They’d be grouchy enough when they saw the brace on his knee. He gave his skates a final tug before heading out on the ice. 

Natasha raised her eyebrows and gave the wrist-warmers a pointed look before spotting the knee brace. 

“Seriously?” she huffed. “You said you were fine yesterday.” 

Clint shrugged. “I lied?” 

Fury gave him a calculating look. “Are you okay to skate?” 

Clint shrugged again. “I guess we’ll find out. I probably won’t be doing any sit spins for a couple of days.” 

“Did you see Dr. Banner?” Fury asked, frowning at Clint’s brand of humor. 

“Yes, Coach,” Clint said, failing to mention that most of that time had been spent with him talking about Bucky’s drug problem and Bruce saying he wasn't that kind of a doctor. Bruce had been kind enough to give him the knee brace, though. 

They made it through about half of their allotted practice time before Fury decided they needed to work on their throw jumps. They were landing the quad pretty regularly now, and Clint had a suspicious feeling Fury was eyeing the quintuple. The pair skated around the rink, picking up speed, and Clint placed his hands over Natasha’s hips, getting ready to throw her. 

Natasha reached behind her to grip Clint’s wrists, preparing for the throw. She squeezed his wrists as she launched herself from the ice, and Clint flinched at the pressure on his bruised wrist. He tried to complete the throw, but the slight hesitation caused Natasha to underrotate and she tumbled onto the ice. 

“Shit,” Clint came to a stop next to her and reached down to touch her shoulder. “Are you all right?” 

Natasha hissed, batting his hand away as she pointedly got to her feet without his help. 

Fury came to a stop a few feet away from the pair. “What was that?” 

“Ask him,” Natasha snarled, jerking her head towards Clint. “He flinched.” She eyed Clint’s wrist-warmers suspiciously before reaching over to snatch the one off his left wrist, revealing a hand-shaped bruise. 

Both of their heads snapped up to stare at Clint. 

“That’s too big to be from Natasha...” Fury said slowly, leaving the sentence hanging. 

Clint hung his shoulders in shame. “I’m so sorry Nat. I didn’t mean to make you fall.” 

“Damn it, you know better!” Nat snapped, hands fisting at her sides. “What’s Bucky doing to you?” 

“He didn’t mean to,” Clint said quietly, looking down at his skates. “We had an argument.” 

“You had an argument, so he hurt you?” she asked, incredulous. “In what world is that okay?”

“I found out he’s addicted to painkillers,” Clint whispered. 

Fury whipped around to face Clint full on. “He’s fucking what?” 

“He asked me not to tell Coach Carter.” 

“Are you serious?” Natasha snarled, hands coming up and curling into claws like she wanted to strangle something. “I’m going to murder him.” 

“Natasha, no,” Clint said halfheartedly, knowing he had no real hope of stopping Natasha’s rather justified wrath. 

Natasha pointed a finger in his face angrily. “You don’t get a say in this. You’re being stupid.” 

“Take a lap, Romanov,” Fury interrupted. “You can’t compete if you’re convicted of murder. I’m calling the practice.” 

Natasha huffed. “Fine. But I’m having words with Bucky later and you’re not seeing him anymore, Clint.” 

“Nat!” Clint protested. 

“No Clint, she’s right,” Fury told him as he put a hand on Clint’s back and pushed him off the ice. “You need to stay away from Bucky if he’s hurting you.”   
……….

Clint managed to keep it together until he put away his gear and changed into his street clothes. He started tearing up as he walked across the quad, and by the time he entered the dorms he was crying. Clint thought about crawling into bed and never coming out again, but he couldn’t bear the thought of going into the room he shared with Natasha right now. 

He needed… something. Drowning his sorrows in beer sounded like a great, if unhealthy, plan. 

But the thought of dulling the pain just reminded him of Bucky, and when he walked into the kitchen he was full on sobbing. One of the summer athletes - Kate, archer, spoiled rotten, his brain supplied helpfully - looked startled as he burst into the room. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. 

“No,” Clint gasped, dropping onto a stool and collapsing onto the counter with his head on his arms. “I c-can’t do this.” 

Kate came over to pat his shoulder. “Anything I can do to help?” 

“You know any good rehab facilities?” Clint asked with a sharp bark of laughter. He didn’t know why he was laughing. He just wanted to die. 

Kate raised an eyebrow as one of the other summer kids - Ned, wrestler, rooms with Peter, Clint’s brain filled in - hurried awkwardly out of the room. 

“Actually, I do,” she told Clint. “When you grow up with people who think money fixes everything, you tend to know at least a few that think the answer to all life’s ailments come in the form of a pill or a bottle. Lucky for me, sports and drugs don’t mix.” 

Clint let out another bark of laughter that turned into a sob. This wasn’t funny at all, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“Could you maybe write those places down for me?”   
……….

Bucky took a step back as Natasha approached, bristling with aggression. She had never really warmed up to him, but she was acting especially hostile today and Bucky had a sinking suspicion he knew why. 

He’d had some time to think about what Clint had said, and while he still thought Clint was overreacting, he may have had a point when it came to buying from that kid that hung around outside the complex. He should probably go talk to a different doctor who was more understanding about his residual pain. 

“I knew hockey players were assholes, but you’re an even bigger piece of shit than I thought,” Natasha told him with no preamble. “If I’d known you were an abusive drug addict, I would have told you to fuck off long ago.” 

Bucky gaped at her. Abusive drug addict? What had Clint told her? 

“I’m sorry?” he asked, confused. 

“That’s it? You’re sorry?” Natasha snapped, getting right up in his face. “You practically break his wrist, you ask him to lie for you, and all you have to say is you’re sorry? It’s too bad that train didn’t finish you off so I wouldn’t have to be cleaning up your mess right now.” 

Bucky’s jaw dropped. “Did you seriously just say you wished I were dead?” 

“Yeah, I did. And don’t think I couldn’t make it happen. Pump you full of drugs, stage it to look like an accidental overdose, wouldn’t be hard at all.” 

“The fuck is wrong with you, lady?” Bucky was horrified. Natasha was acting like a crazy person. Was she seriously threatening to kill him over a few painkillers? 

Natasha stared at him, unblinking. “I think you could ask yourself the same question. I don’t care if you spiral out of control with an opioid addiction, but don’t you DARE take my partner down with you. You’ve done enough damage already - if you come anywhere near Clint he won’t have to take out a restraining order, he’ll be going to a funeral.” 

Bucky was so confused. Natasha was losing her mind. “What? What do you want from me?”

“Clean up. Dry out. Stay out of Clint’s life.” 

With that, Natasha spun around and stomped gracefully out the door. Bucky took a second to marvel at that apparent contradiction before shaking his head and pulling out his phone. 

“ _Natasha just told me to stay out of your life, what’s going on?_ ” he texted Clint. 

Bucky watched the “typing” symbol appear and disappear several times before finally getting a text. 

“ _This is Coach Fury. Natasha’s right. Domestic abuse is unacceptable and you need to stay away from Clint. I’m blocking this number. Don’t try to contact him again._ ” 

Domestic abuse? What was going on? 

Bucky texted Steve next. “ _Are you coming home tonight? I need to talk to someone._ ” 

Steve’s response was almost immediate. “ _I’ll be there as soon as I can._ ”   
……….

True to his word, Steve was home in under two hours. Accounting for the multiple bus transfers involved with coming from outside the city limits, he must have really booked it home. Even so, Bucky felt like he was ready to start climbing the walls by the time Steve arrived. He had no idea what Clint had told Natasha and Coach Fury to make them react like they had, and he was more than a little concerned that he was starting to lose touch with reality. 

Thankfully, Steve had seen Clint and Fury on his way home from the rink, and he was able to explain why Natasha and Fury thought he was abusing Clint. 

Bucky felt terrible. He hadn’t realized how hard he’d been squeezing Clint’s arm. He wanted to run out and apologize, but Steve convinced him that wouldn’t be a good idea. Natasha and Fury were still livid, and unlikely to let Bucky anywhere near Clint. 

As for the painkillers, Steve unsurprisingly tried to blame himself. It seemed like Steve had long suspected Bucky was struggling, but had simply accepted all of his excuses at face value. Bucky argued that he didn’t have a problem and everyone else was overreacting. He didn’t understand why everyone was getting so worked up over this. 

During the middle of their talk, Steve’s phone dinged. It was a text from Clint. 

“ _Could you pass this on to Bucky? Katie the archer said it’s the best._ ” 

Below that was a link to a rehab facility in Westchester County called The Xavier Institute. Steve opened up the link and passed his phone to Bucky. Apparently they were a secluded facility that catered to athletes. The grounds looked gorgeous and nothing like Bucky had expected from a rehab facility. 

Steve scooted closer to Bucky on the couch and put his arm around his shoulders. 

“I think you should try it,” he said quietly. 

Bucky handed the phone back and closed his eyes. “Yeah…” he whispered, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arm around them. “I think you might be right.”


	8. Chapter 8

For the record, rehab was not a good time. 

During his first month there, one of his goals was to write a letter to all the people he had hurt with his addiction. It was a short list. 

He started with Coach Peggy because that one was the easiest. She had believed in him and given him a second chance with the Howlies, but he’d betrayed that trust. 

Next was Tony. He’d been so supportive, making Bucky’s arms and updating his facility to make it more accessible. Bucky had repaid that by bringing drugs into the complex. 

Then came his letter to Steve. Steve had been with him from the start. They’d been inseparable from the moment they’d met, but still Bucky had lied to him. Every time Steve asked how he was doing and he said he was fine. When Steve raised his eyebrows and asked if the doctor had really renewed his prescription again and Bucky said yes. When Steve asked where he was going in the middle of the night and Bucky said he was just going on a jog around the block. Lies. They’d all been lies. 

Lastly was the letter to Clint. Bucky had to start over three times before he could figure out how to put his feelings into words. He hadn’t just hurt Clint mentally, he’d hurt him physically too. Why was it the people he loved the most were the ones he hurt the worst? 

“ _Dear Clint,_ ” Bucky wrote, “ _I don’t think there are words to tell you how sorry I am that I hurt you. There is no excuse for what I did to you or what I said to you before you left. I was really angry when you accused me of being addicted to drugs, but my actions were inexcusable. At the time I honestly thought I had it under control, but I realize now that I was letting the drugs control me instead of the other way around. I guess you had the advantage of seeing better from a distance._

“ _Now that I’ve gained some distance, I realize I do have a problem. I’m always going to have a problem, but Dr. Xavier and his staff have given me the tools to understand how to fight that problem. And it’s thanks to you that I was forced to face up to my addiction instead of letting it rule my life._

“ _I know Natasha and Coach Fury have told you to stay away from me, but I hope someday you’ll be able to forgive me for what I did to you. I understand if you don’t. I don’t expect it, and I certainly don’t deserve it. But I wanted to let you know how sorry I am, and how much I wish things had turned out differently. When I first fell in love with your smile, I remember thinking it was going to end in a dumpster fire because my life has always seemed to end up like that. I never thought I’d be the one to light the match. Being in here has made me realize I need to own up to my mistakes._

“ _I made a mistake when you were trying to help me, and I will regret that for the rest of my life. But thanks to your intervention, I’ll actually have a life, and I will forever be grateful for that._

“ _Best regards,_  
“ _Bucky._ ”  
……….

Clint wasn’t surprised to be getting a letter from Bucky. Tony had mentioned the week earlier that he’d gotten an apology letter from Bucky in rehab. Apparently it was a thing to write letters to the people you’d hurt with your addiction. 

What Clint didn’t expect was to be handed the letter personally from Steve in the locker room, or to burst into tears as soon as he started reading. He could barely finish reading the letter through all the tears, and when he was finished he latched onto Steve and sobbed into his very thin t-shirt. 

“I still love him, Steve,” Clint said when he finally pulled away from the other skater. 

Steve looked suspiciously bright-eyed. “I know, Clint, I know. He didn't say it in the letter because he didn't want it to be manipulative, but he still loves you too.” 

Clint fought back another round of tears. “What do I do?” he asked. Even to his own ears he sounded pathetic. 

Steve looked pained. “I wish I knew the answer to that. I know Bucky was a lot happier with you and he could really use your support, but that's not being fair to you. You have your skating to focus on, and we all know how Natasha feels about Bucky. I can't ask you to endure her wrath just because I think it's better for Bucky.”

“Maybe I can talk to her after Worlds,” Clint said, sinking onto a bench and putting his head in his hands. Worlds was in three weeks, and Natasha always got extra intense right before a competition. He had no hope of convincing her of anything right now that didn’t involve extra practice time.  
……….

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair. It was starting to get long, but he didn’t feel like trying to get it cut. Having his hair flopping down in his face gave him something to focus on when he needed a distraction from the cravings. 

He was getting antsy, and today’s group session wasn’t for another hour. He debating going on a walk around the grounds when his gruff Canadian roommate tossed a letter on the bed in front of where he was sitting. 

“You’ve got mail,” Logan informed him helpfully. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow at his roommate before looking at the envelope. It was from the Stark Industries in one of those official envelopes with the return address pre-printed with their logo. Weird. Why was Stark Industries sending him mail? 

He tore open the envelope to find a handwritten letter on Stark Industries letterhead. Bucky gasped. He would recognise that messy scrawl anywhere. 

“ _Dear Bucky,_ ” Clint had written, “ _I got your letter. I’m really proud of you for deciding to get help, and I wanted to let you know that I forgive you and I still love you._

“ _I need to focus on preparing for Worlds right now, but when those are over I’d like to come visit you if that’s something you’re okay with. If you’re not comfortable with that, I understand. Take as much time as you need._

“ _I hope I’m not being presumptuous by assuming you’d like to see me. Steve told me you said you still loved me too, so I hope I’m not wrong. (I think I’ve been spending too much time with Tony. I just used the word ‘presumptuous’. What is the world coming to???)_

“ _Anyway, I hope you’re doing better, and I love you and I miss you. You need to hurry up and get clean because I want to win the Olympics next year with you there to cheer me on._

“ _Lots of love,_  
“ _Clint._ ” 

Bucky laughed. “You can’t win the whole Olympics, Clint,” he said to himself before going back to read the letter through again. Clint forgave him. Clint still loved him. Maybe he hadn’t destroyed his chance after all.  
……….

When Clint saw Bucky waiting for him at the entrance of the Xavier Institute, he practically squealed with joy before running up the stairs and throwing himself into Bucky’s arms. 

“I missed you,” he said, burying his face in Bucky’s collarbone and wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. 

“I missed you too,” Bucky sniffled, planting his face in Clint’s hair. “I’m so sorry.” 

Clint squeezed Bucky even harder. Now that he had him back in his arms, he never wanted to let go. Even with the distraction of a looming competition, the last couple of months had been so lonely. There’d been more than a few nights where he’d snuck off to the janitorial closet with a pillow and cried himself to sleep. 

Bucky tried to take a step back, but Clint shook his head and just kept clutching at him. 

“You trying to break my ribs, punk?” 

“You’d deserve it,” Clint mumbled into Bucky’s shirt. “You left me all alone with Natasha. She made me practice so much. So much, Bucky.” 

Bucky laughed and ruffled Clint’s hair. “You dealt with Natasha for years before you met me. I’m sure you were just fine. Congrats on the silver at Worlds, by the way.” 

Clint sighed and finally let go of Bucky so he could look him in the eye. “I wasn’t ‘just fine’ without you, and Natasha’s still pissed about the silver,” he informed the other man. “She wanted a gold, and of course she blames me for getting out of sync with our Biellmann spins in the free skate. Not that she’ll admit she was the one getting wobbly on the star lift.” 

Clint watched Bucky’s eyes glaze over for a second. He was going to have to get him a illustrated figure skating glossary for his birthday or something. 

“The Biellmann is when you’re like this,” Clint said, demonstrating by lifting one leg and holding his foot behind his head with one of his hands. He dropped his leg and continued. “The star lift is when I’ve got Nat by the hip and she looks like a starfish.” 

He tried to demonstrate by lifting one leg in the air and sticking his arms out, but overbalanced and almost fell over. “Whoops. Nat does it better.” 

“Are we doing yoga on the front steps now?” a bald man in a wheelchair asked as he rolled over to the pair. 

“Hey Dr. X!” Bucky said, “this is Clint. He’s the pairs figure skater I told you about. Clint, this is Dr. X. He runs this place and he’s awesome. I swear he’s like a mind reader, though.” 

The other man rolled his eyes and let out a very put-upon sigh before holding his hand out for Clint to shake. “Dr. Xavier, though you can call me Charles. And I’m not a mind reader, as I’ve told Bucky many times over. I’m just exceptionally good at reading body language.” 

Clint took his hand, laughing. “Nice to meet you, Charles. My skating partner is like that sometimes. I think you’d like her.” 

“Clint, nobody likes her,” Bucky interrupted. “She’s evil. She threatened to murder me if I didn’t dry out.” 

“It got you here, didn’t it?” Dr. Xavier asked pointedly. 

“Doc, I’m hurt!” Bucky said indignantly. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side!” 

“I’m on the side of you getting clean and being healthy,” he informed Bucky while Clint cackled. “If that takes a few murder threats, well, I’ve done more with less.” 

Clint snorted. He liked this guy a lot. 

He liked him even more after he attended Dr. Xavier’s friends and family group session. Apparently they held one every Saturday for close friends and family members to have a guided and open conversation about addiction. Dr. Xavier led the session with some help from his colleague Dr. Grey. 

Steve had been to a few sessions and had encouraged Clint to attend one while he was visiting Bucky. He was glad Steve had suggested it - it was really helpful. 

After the group session, Bucky took Clint on a tour of the facility. The place was amazing, with sprawling lawns and trees, and even a small creek running behind the mansion. It sure beat the tiny room he shared with Nat. They had a view of a parking lot. Bucky had a view of a perfectly manicured lawn with a giant fountain in the center. 

“This is nicer than all the places I’ve lived put together,” Clint informed Bucky as they were sprawled across Bucky’s bed. He probably needed to get back home soon, but it was so nice here that he didn’t want to leave. 

“You and me both,” Bucky laughed. “Rehab totally sucks, but at least I get to suffer in a mansion. You’ve got to thank your friend Katie for me.” 

“I’ll do that, yeah,” Clint said as he carded his fingers through Bucky’s hair. It was getting pretty shaggy, but Clint thought it was a good look on him. “I should probably be getting back,” he admitted. 

“Yeah.” Bucky let out a wistful sigh. “This was real nice, though. Thanks for coming.” 

“Mmm, no problem,” Clint said, plaiting a loose braid in Bucky’s hair before combing it out with his fingers. “I missed you and your pretty face.” 

“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” 

“Always,” Clint said, standing up. “I love you. Get better soon.” 

Bucky smiled. “I love you too. And for you, I’ll try.”

……….

Bucky had been home for almost three months when he approached Tony about something he’d mentioned to Bucky before he went into rehab. They were in Tony’s workshop, where he was showing off all the new features of a hand he’d been redesigning for Bucky.

“Hey Tony?” Bucky asked during a lull in the conversation.

“What’s up, Buck?”

Bucky shifted nervously. “Do you remember when you told me about that osseointegrated device?”

Tony’s head jerked back in alarm. “Bucky, no.”

“I know, but the socket is giving me so many mobility issues with hockey,” Bucky said plaintively. “I’m having a hard time covering the top of the net because it’s impeding my range of motion. The OI device would fix a lot of that.”

Tony shook his head vigorously. “Bucky, no, that’s a terrible idea. I was afraid you’d bring this back up, but that kind of major surgery is a really really bad idea with your recent history. I’d be surprised if you could even find a doctor that would sign off on it.”

“What if I already did?” Bucky asked. Dr. Zola had actually approached him, having seen an article about him in some online sports magazine. Bucky was a little fuzzy on the details, but it sounded like Dr. Zola was willing to perform the surgery for free so he could study the effects of the device on a full-time athlete. The opportunity seemed too good to pass up.

“I can’t believe you’re even thinking about this,” Tony said, pacing. “This is a really bad idea, and that’s coming from me. I’m like the grandmaster of bad ideas, and even I wouldn’t do this if I were you. The odds of you getting addicted to painkillers again is like astronomically high. You can’t drag Clint through that again.”

“Why is this about Clint?” Bucky asked. “Shouldn’t this be about what’s best for me?”

Tony cocked his head and gave Bucky a quizzical look. “If you’re asking that question, you’re not the man I thought you were. Go talk to Clint and then come back and ask me that question.”   
……….

Bucky did end up talking to Clint about it that night. As soon as Bucky explained that it was a prosthetic device they would surgically graft into the end of his remaining bone, Clint turned white.

“Bucky, no....”

“That’s literally what Tony said,” Bucky grumbled. Why did nobody think he could handle this?

Clint shivered. “I can’t, Bucky. I can’t do this again. Please don’t do this. I don’t want to lose you again. I can’t lose you again. You know Nat won’t give you another chance; I’ll lose you forever.”

“You’d chose Nat over me?”

Clint’s eyes were wide, and he looked ready to bolt out of the room. “Bucky, no. That’s not it. But I can’t lose skating. You’d make me to choose between you and skating?”

“That’s how I feel about hockey,” Bucky burst out. “You’re making me choose between you and hockey. How am I supposed to do that?”

Clint rocked back and forth where he was sitting on the couch. “I don’t want you to choose hockey and lose yourself. Coach Carter won’t give you a second chance either, and then you’d lose everything. I can’t watch you do that to yourself.”

“What makes you think I can’t handle it?” Bucky asked angrily. “Nobody thinks I can handle it, but I beat the addiction once. What will I regret more, Clint? Never knowing what I could have done or falling back into addiction? I got through it once - I know I’m stronger than the addiction now. I don’t know if I could be happy without hockey.”

Bucky watched Clint curl in on himself and pull the blanket from the back of the couch over his shoulders. He looked so broken, but Bucky felt much the same. Hockey was his life. Being in his gear out on the ice just felt right in a way nothing else could match, and he didn’t know how to explain that to Clint.

“Hey,” Bucky said softly, scooting down the couch and pressing his forehead to Clint’s. “I’m scared too, but I wouldn’t even be thinking about this if it weren’t for you. You’re the one who pushed me to get back on the ice after my accident, and you’re the one who actually did something about getting me to go to rehab. If you really think this is a bad idea I won’t go ahead with it, but could we at least talk about it? Please don’t shut down and shut me out.”

Clint opened and closed his mouth a few times before raggedly saying, “Bucky, I’m so scared to lose you again. Every time I go into the city and see the addicts shooting up I think how easily that could have been you. I love you so much, and that thought terrifies me.”

Three months ago Bucky would have vehemently denied that could ever be him, but his time at the Xavier Institute had made him realize how far he’d gotten into addiction. He didn’t like to think about it, but without that external force, Bucky very well could have ended up a heroin addict, shooting up in some alley behind a dumpster.

“I don’t want to get hooked again either, you know. Besides the actual surgery, I don’t want to take the painkillers if I can help it. I know more than anyone what I stand to lose.”

“Then why do it?” Clint asked, looking anguished. “You can still play hockey without this surgery. Why is this so important to you?”

“If you got injured and could still kinda skate, but there was a surgery that could bring you back to the competitive level again, would you do it?”

“Oh.” Clint stared at him with understanding. “Okay.” He brushed Bucky’s hair out of his face and rubbed his forehead gently with his thumb like he did when he was nervous. “But I want us to talk to Dr. Xavier about this so we have a good plan. No more dumpster fires, okay?”

Bucky’s eyes brimmed with tears. Clint’s understanding meant the world to him now that he had it, and he understood why Tony had said what he did earlier. He really had meant what he’d said about not going ahead with the surgery if Clint wasn’t on board, and he was so happy Clint understood why he needed to do this. It felt like he was getting the chance to have his life back.

He wasn’t going to fuck things up this time. He had too many people counting on him.


	9. Chapter 9

When Bucky told Clint about wanting the osseointegrated prosthetic, Clint thought he was going to throw up. He finally felt like they were back on solid ground in their relationship, and then Bucky had to go pull the rug out from under their feet. 

Clint never told Bucky how rough it had been on him when Natasha and Fury made him cut off all contact with Bucky. While Bucky had been at the Xavier Institute, Clint had found himself with a gaping hole in his life. 

It almost felt like he was mourning a death. Every time he saw something he wanted to share with Bucky it felt like a knife to his gut when he realized he couldn’t. He couldn’t even talk about it with his best friend because she was the one enforcing her so-called “Bucky Ban”. 

Even after he’d convinced her to lift the ban, Clint blamed himself for their separation. He knew it wasn’t logical, but he thought if he’d done things differently she and Fury wouldn’t have reacted as harshly as they did. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to go through all that again. 

Thoughts racing, Clint had almost bolted in fear, but Bucky had convinced him to stay and hear him out. It wasn’t until Bucky asked what Clint would do in his position that he had really understood why Bucky needed to do this. 

Once Clint understood that, he realized they were going to need more support than Clint could provide alone, and they had several long sessions with Dr. Xavier to coordinate a plan for Bucky’s recovery after the surgery. He’d been pretty hesitant about going through with the surgery, but once they convinced him this was something Bucky needed to do, he had a lot of good ideas. 

Clint would be in charge of Bucky’s medication, but as an additional safety measure he would only keep one pill with him at a time. The rest of the bottle would be stored in Tony’s office safe, with the combination known only to Pepper and Tony. They would have a schedule prepared in advance by Dr. Xavier to make sure Bucky weaned himself off the painkillers in a safe manner. Tony and Pepper would be the second failsafe to make sure Clint’s judgement didn’t become compromised if it became too hard to see someone he loved in pain. 

Bucky agreed to all these things, but decided to take it one step further and move into the dorms where Clint could keep a closer eye on him. Apparently he’d already approached Steve about moving out of their apartment by telling him there was no point in them living all the way out in Brooklyn when they spent all their time at the rink anyway. Steve had made some half-hearted protest about Brooklyn pride that Bucky quickly squashed by reminding him that he spent almost every night with Tony anyway. 

Now Bucky and Steve shared a room down the hall from Clint to “keep up appearances” as Bucky put it, rolling his eyes at his best friend. In reality, Steve just used it to store a few changes of clothes and occasionally slept there when Tony was away on a business trip. Clint didn’t understand why Steve was so insistent on keeping his relationship with Tony private, but decided he had bigger worries and left them to their weirdness. 

After all that planning, it turned out Clint’s concerns were the opposite of what they should have been. Bucky was staunchly refusing to take any painkillers, even when it got so bad he was shaking and dizzy. Clint practically had to beg Bucky before he would even consider taking a controlled dose to manage the pain. 

One particularly rough day about a month after Bucky’s first surgery, Clint walked in to Bucky’s room to find him curled up on the floor of the bathroom. His back was pressed into the wall and his hand was curled around his shoulder. 

“Shit, Bucky, why didn't you come find me before it got this bad?” 

“Couldn't. Risk it,” Bucky bit out through gritted teeth. 

“You couldn't risk finding me?” Clint asked in confusion. “You know Nat doesn't want to murder you any more. It's safe to come find me when I'm at practice if you're in this much pain.” 

“Can't risk. The addiction.” 

“Oh Bucky,” Clint sighed, kicking his shoes off and sinking down to the floor to pull Bucky in his arms. They'd had this fight before, and he had a feeling they'd be having it again. “You can't keep doing this to yourself. There's a difference between taking the drugs for fun and taking them to manage your very real pain.” 

“‘s not worth it,” Bucky mumbled, sinking into Clint. “Got you now, I'll be okay.” 

“Oh Bucky,” Clint repeated, moving his arm to support more of Bucky’s weight and rubbing circles into his back with the other. Poor Bucky was so tense. He hated seeing him like this. “Can I at least get you some tea or something?” 

Bucky shook his head, nose rubbing across Clint’s collarbone. “Nnn, ‘m good.” 

Clint had a hard time understanding him when he slurred his words like that, but he thought Bucky had said he was good. Bucky slowly relaxed in Clint’s arms until he took a sharp breath and tensed up again. He let out his breath slowly and took another deliberate breath, clutching the back of Clint’s shirt. 

“Bucky?” 

He took a few more deep breaths before responding. “’s fine. Just gotta. Breath through it.” 

Clint must have made some kind of noise, because Bucky’s head jerked up to look at him. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, letting go of Clint’s shirt and smoothing it out with his hand. He took another deep breath. “I’m good, really.” 

The way Bucky’s mouth was twisting seemed to indicate otherwise. Clint was unfortunately getting very good at reading Bucky’s pain levels through his body language. Clint shook his head, combing the sweat-soaked hair out of Bucky’s face with his fingers and planting a kiss on his forehead. “You’re really not,” he said frankly. 

Bucky tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “I’m good enough for you to stop worrying about me?” 

Clint rolled his eyes. “Not gonna happen, dude.” 

“I tried?” 

Clint gave Bucky another kiss on the forehead. “It was a very nice try. Will you take the medication now?” 

“Maybe just an ibuprofen?” Bucky said after a moment's hesitation, still breathing purposefully. 

Clint raised an eyebrow. “I found you curled up on the floor. You really think ibuprofen is gonna touch this?” Bucky was altogether too stubborn sometimes. Actually, nix that. He was too stubborn pretty much always. 

“It might?” Bucky said hopefully. 

“Uh huh,” Clint said, raising an eyebrow. “Next you’ll be telling me Steve might make a decent figure skater one day.” 

Bucky choked on a laugh, clutching his shoulder and hissing in pain between snorts of laughter. “Oh. My god. He’s so. So bad. Did you hear they wanted to pair him with Coach Carter’s niece?” 

“What? Sharon?” Clint asked, horrified. Sharon Carter was a decent figure skater, but in Clint’s opinion her heart wasn’t really in it. Pairing her with Steve would be an utter disaster for both of them. Like… bodies on the ice, no survivors-level disaster. 

“I heard it was Natasha’s idea. Steve, bless his dumb little heart, was ready to give it a go. Sharon called it quits halfway through their first session together and told Steve if he tried to pick her up again she’d put a toe pick through his eye. Last I heard she was applying for some women’s hockey program based out of Germany.” 

“Nat just wants to see the world burn,” Clint muttered. He did think Sharon would enjoy the rough and tumble nature of hockey better than figure skating, though. Clint shook his head over Natasha’s meddling before turning his attention back to Bucky. “So, how about we get off this floor, get some OxyContin into you, and go find some dinner? I think I saw some kind of lasagna in the fridge earlier.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a defeated sigh. “That sounds like a good idea.”


	10. Chapter 10

The last six months felt like they’d passed by in a blur. Between the surgery and all the physical therapy, Bucky wasn’t sure where the time had gone. 

His surgery had gone smoothly, and the recovery had gone about as well as he’d expected. Meaning it had really sucked, but he’d gotten through the worst of it. The first few months he had been a mess, trying to balance out his pain levels with his narcotics use. The drugs had provided blissful relief, but were tempered with a gut-wrenching terror of dependence. 

Thanks to his amazing support system, Bucky was almost ready for his second surgery to attach the abutment. He could be back playing hockey within the year, and he could hardly believe his luck. Last year he’d been slowly spiraling out of control with an opioid addiction, and this year he was preparing for a new arm and getting ready to watch his boyfriend go to the Olympics. 

Bucky was sitting in the top of the bleachers watching Clint and Natasha practicing their routine for Nationals when he realized he loved Clint. Like, he really, really loved him. 

He wanted to marry him. 

Bucky wasn't sure why watching Clint land the same triple salchow over and over again made him realize what he'd known deep down for what felt like forever. He loved Clint Barton with everything he had. 

Clint was his perfect disaster. Clint stuck by him, supported him, and understood him like nobody else could or did. Clint made him a better person. 

Clint was the one who pushed back at his self-imposed limitations and convinced him to get back on the ice. He never saw Bucky as lesser or broken, and he refused to accept that attitude from Bucky. 

And when Bucky decided he needed to take a risk with the osseointegration, Clint had supported him every step of the way. He’d seen the worry in Clint’s eyes every time he tried unsuccessfully to hide his pain. It turned out Bucky actually wasn’t very good at that when it came to Clint, and Clint wasn’t very good at hiding his fear from Bucky. 

Bucky had seen the toll it had taken on Clint, trying to juggle Bucky’s needs along with his intense practice schedule. Natasha had her eyes on an Olympic gold medal, and it was Clint’s job to make sure he supported her. Literally. 

Today was no exception, as the pair worked their way through the second rehearsal of the day. Apparently they weren’t synchronizing their landing well enough for Fury’s standards, though it looked pretty good to Bucky’s untrained eye. Natasha was skating in circles with her arms resting on her knees, and Clint was sprawled out on the ice with his hands over his head. They both looked beat, but Nationals was in a week and Fury wasn’t letting up on them. 

He heard Fury’s shouts echo off the rafters and watched Clint drag himself off the ice to give it another go. The pair took their positions on the ice, and the music started in the middle of the number. 

“Okay, you need to land the triple on the ‘down’!” Fury yelled as the pair built up speed for the jump. “Recover, stroke, stroke, double, land on ‘out’!” 

The pair jumped, then jumped again. 

“Yes!” Fury shouted. “Yes! Keep going! Use those arms and start the spins!” 

Bucky watched them go into parallel camel spins. 

After getting sick of having Clint and Steve explain figure skating terms all the time, Bucky had gotten a notebook and started writing down definitions for all the different elements. Steve tried reading it once and had been aghast. 

Camel spin: Spinny move pretending to be a table. Does not look like a camel.  
Twist lift: Clint throws Natasha in the air like confetti.  
Throw jump: Clint uses Natasha as a projectile weapon.  
Death spiral: Natasha and Clint pretend to be a compass.  
Lasso lift: Clint whips Natasha over his head like a murderous lasso and they hold hands. 

Bucky couldn’t understand why Steve didn't appreciate it. Clint thought it was great. 

When the music ended, Clint collapsed on the ice and Fury yanked him back to his feet by the collar. 

“Again, from the beginning,” he shouted. Bucky wondered if Fury ever used his inside voice. He’d certainly never heard anything that wasn’t shouting from the man. 

Clint’s groan was audible from the bleachers, but he went back to the starting position with Natasha and waited for the music to start. Poor Clint. Bucky was going to have to make him a really nice dinner tonight. Clint would like that. 

Bucky started making a grocery list, and wondered idly if it would be tacky to propose at the Olympics. He should have Steve ask Tony. Tony would know about these kinds of things.

Fuck, he needed a ring. Hopefully Tony would know all about those too.  
……….

“Why did you drag us all the way out to Yonkers to go to a strip mall?” Steve asked testily. “New York has malls, you know.” 

Bucky shrugged, unrepentant. “I thought buying an engagement ring in the diamond district would be too cliche.” 

Tony’s head swiveled towards Bucky. “A what now?” 

“An engagement ring,” Bucky said. “One of those things you give to people when you want to marry them.” 

Steve was staring at Bucky like he’d grown a second head. “You’re going to propose to Clint?” 

“I love him, Steve. He makes me a better person, and I want to spend the rest of my life with him.” 

Steve smiled. “That’s great, Bucky.” 

“No, Steve, I’m like stupid in love with him,” Bucky continued, adamant. He didn’t think Steve understood how he felt about Clint. “He completes me in a way I never knew was possible. I would do anything for him, and I need him to know that. I would jump in front of another fuckin’ train for him, because I know he’d still be there for me afterwards.” 

“Whoa, Buck,” Steve interrupted, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “I get it.” His eyes flicked over to Tony, who was standing beside him with his hands in his pockets. “I really do. Just because marriage isn’t right for us doesn’t mean it’s not right for you.” 

“Yeah, just because someone’s ashamed of banging the owner of their gym,” Tony muttered under his breath. 

“It’s improprietous!” Steve protested. 

“It makes me look like one of those Hollywood directors that uses their power to sexually harass young actresses! You making us sneak around in the shadows makes me feel like I’m taking advantage of you!” 

Bucky raised his eyebrows. He really didn’t want to be here for this… 

“Fine!” Steve yelled. “Do you want to get married?” 

Tony took a step back and frowned. “Not if that’s how you’re asking me.” 

Bucky shook his head. This was starting to get out of hand. “Uhh, guys? Could you maybe stop bickering like the old married couple you already are and get back to helping me pick out a ring for the love of my life?” 

He gestured to the small jewelry store in the middle of the strip mall. He wanted to come here because apparently they were known for ethically sourced diamonds as well as really nice custom work. Clint deserved a one of a kind ring, not something out of a department store.  
……….

Steve and Bucky were browsing through the mens’ rings and chatting with a salesperson while Tony roamed the store. Bucky felt like all the bands were really boring, and was starting to despair as the salesperson brought out ring after ring. Steve wasn’t being any help; he claimed they all looked “real fine, Bucky”. 

Even if he knew Clint would be happy with a plastic ring out of a vending machine, Bucky wanted to find the perfect ring and he just wasn’t seeing anything that felt right. 

Just as Bucky was about to give up hope, Tony came rushing over and grabbed Bucky by the arm. He dragged him over to one of the display cases filled with sparkly diamond rings. 

He pointed to a ring towards the back of the case. “Bucky, look! That one with the swirly wave-things!” 

Bucky looked at the ring Tony was pointing to. It had a large diamond bracketed by two smaller diamonds. The band was curved so the three stones were surrounded by curved metal that looked a bit like waves. A half dozen smaller diamonds were nestled into the band. 

It was one of the less gaudy rings in the case, but Bucky didn’t see why Tony was so excited. 

“Bucky, look at it!” Tony was practically levitating off the floor in excitement. 

“I’m looking…” Bucky said. He still wasn’t seeing why Tony was so excited about this ring. 

“Okay, now imagine it in black gold with sapphires bracketing an amethyst,” Tony said. 

“Oh,” said Bucky. 

“Oh,” said Steve, looking over Bucky’s shoulder. 

“I told you so,” Tony said smugly.  
……….

Clint wasn’t sure why Bucky was acting so strange lately. 

“Does Bucky seem weird to you?” he asked Natasha as they unlaced their boots after another grueling practice. Now that they were likely going to the Olympics, Fury wasn’t letting up on them for a minute. They’d placed first at Nationals, so they were pretty much guaranteed a spot on the Olympic team, even though the teams wouldn’t be announced for another couple of weeks. 

Natasha looked up from her skates to stare at him. “Bucky always seems weird. Are you worried he’s relapsing?” 

“No, no!” Clint said hurriedly, waving his hands in front of his chest. He didn’t want Nat getting that idea into her head. “He’s just, I dunno, got this dopey look on his face all the time and keeps staring at my hands.” 

“Yeah, sounds pretty weird all right,” Natasha said sarcastically. “If you washed your hands more, he’d probably stop staring at them.” 

“I do wash them!” Clint protested. 

“With soap?” Natasha asked. 

Clint threw his arms in the air. “Yes with soap! What are you, my mother?” Sometimes Natasha was such a nag. 

Natasha grabbed one of his hands and inspected it. “Well, I can see why Bucky’s staring,” she said, dropping his hand and putting her hands on her hips. “We’re getting you a manicure. Your nails are awful, your cuticles are more ragged than a pair of cutoff jeans, and your skin looks like the Mojave desert. Have you never heard of moisturizer?” 

“I practically live on the ice!” Clint protested. “Gimme a break, lady.”

“I live on the ice too, and you don’t see me looking like a farmhand,” Natasha said scathingly as she stuffed her leggings into her duffel bag. 

Clint huffed. She knew he’d grown up on a farm, and it wasn’t fair she was using that information against him. It wasn’t like he made fun of her for growing up in a Russian orphanage.

“You’re mean,” he told her, arms folded across his chest. “I’m staying at Bucky’s tonight.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes before pulling a sweater over her head. “You say that like it’s news. Don’t stay up too late. We’re getting manicures in the morning.”

“Aww, Nat, why?” 

“I don’t want your nails looking like they belong to Baba-Yaga during our Olympic photoshoots.”


	11. Chapter 11

Bucky was nervously waiting in the bleachers at the Olympics. Clint and Natasha were in first place after the short program, and they were waiting for their turn in the free skate. They were the twelfth pair to skate, so Bucky had a lot of programs to sit though. 

Germany had skated really well in both their short and free programs, and it looked like they were the pair to beat. There were two more pairs in front of Clint and Natasha, and Bucky could barely contain his nerves. 

The fact he planned to propose to Clint after the medal ceremony possibly had something to do with that. A few days ago he’d spotted the perfect location for his proposal. There was a bench outside the ice arena surrounded by pine trees, with a nice street lamp nearby to give them some mood lighting. He’d had a quiet word with Natasha this morning to make sure she’d be there to snap some pictures of the proposal. 

She’d raised her eyebrows cryptically, but grudgingly agreed. 

One more pair before Clint and Natasha. He’d missed Japan’s performance entirely. 

Bucky nervously played with the clapper Clint had given him before Nationals. Bucky had still been healing from his second surgery to attach the abutment for his prosthesis during Nationals, so Clint bought Bucky one of those ridiculous plastic hand clappers. He said he wanted Bucky to be able to clap for him after their performance, and Bucky had decided to just roll with it. He felt a little bit silly carrying it around, but Clint knowing he was proud of him was far more important than any embarrassment Bucky felt. 

Clint’s expression when he’d seen Bucky pack it in his bag for the Olympics had been totally worth it. 

“The next skaters represent the United States of America,” the loudspeakers boomed. Bucky winced in sympathy for Clint, who would be getting all the announcements fed directly into his hearing aids through his t-coil. “Natasha Romanov and Clinton Barton.”

This was it. Bucky could barely breathe. He’d watched them practice this performance probably hundreds of times, but he still found himself on the edge of his seat every time. 

Natasha and Clint skated around the rink before taking their positions in the middle of the ice. When the first note of their music started, Bucky’s heart felt like it might beat out of his chest. The pair skated apart before coming back together, circling each other, and entering into their first spins. After coming out of the spins, they pushed off the ice to do a lap before Clint picked up Natasha for the triple twist. 

When Clint caught Natasha and set her smoothly back on the ice, Bucky let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through the whole four and a half minutes at this rate…

After the pair completed their final spin and threw their arms out in a triumphant gesture as the music ended, the entire stadium exploded. Bucky jumped to his feet, screaming and waving his hand clapper as hard as he could. Their performance had looked perfect. Every spin, every lift, every throw had looked completely solid. Bucky could not be prouder. 

Bucky watched Natasha pull Clint off the ice where he’d collapsed. When they turned to bow to Bucky’s side of the stadium, he saw that Clint had tears streaming down his cheeks and Bucky had the sudden urge to run down the bleachers and wrap him in his arms. 

He couldn’t wait for the ceremony to be over so he could propose.   
……….

Clint dug his skate in the ice and halted his spin, punching his arms out wide on the final note of the song. He took a deep breath before collapsing to his knees, sobbing. He gasped, struggling to breathe; that was the best they’d ever skated this routine, and they’d done it on Olympic ice. Everything they’d worked for, all the sweat, all the tears, they were for this moment. 

Natasha knelt in front of him and took his face in both of her hands. She gave him a quick nod, as if to say “yes, you’ll do” before grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet. Clint raised his arms to each side of the crowd in a daze, tears still streaming down his face. He didn’t even bother trying to wipe them away - he didn’t care if all the world was witness to his overwhelming joy. 

Natasha guided him off the ice, where she pushed a white stuffed rabbit she’d grabbed off the ice into his arms before leading them to the kiss and cry to await their results. Clint looked down at the stuffed animal. It was one of those realistic looking ones, shaped like a football with a splotchy grey nose and black tips on its ears. 

He hugged the rabbit as he waited, sandwiched between Natasha and Fury. As much as he wanted to say the scores didn’t matter because he knew they’d skated their absolute best… the scores totally mattered. Clint didn’t see the results when they first popped up on the screen, but he heard the muffled roar of the crowd and felt Fury relax his pent up tension. Nat leaned over and planted a rare kiss on his cheek, so he knew they’d done well. 

Clint finally looked up at the scores and his jaw dropped. They were currently in first place by almost two points. He tried to remember which teams were left and how they’d scored in the short program, but his brain didn’t seem to be working.

Fury patted his knee. “You’ve got this in the bag,” he whispered quietly in Clint’s ear, turning his head away from the cameras. Clint was glad someone was able to do math right now. 

“I… I need to do something,” Clint said, standing up abruptly. 

Natasha nodded knowingly at him, and Fury simply told him not to go far. 

Clint jogged into the locker room and grabbed his phone. Meet me in the lobby, he texted Bucky before quickly unlacing his boots and shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers. He tossed his skates into the locker and scooped the stuffed rabbit off the bench. 

He hurried into the lobby, eyes darting as he looked around for Bucky. Ah, there he was in that ridiculous navy blue peacoat with the buttons that went practically up to his shoulders. Bucky claimed Clint just didn’t understand fashion, but Clint was pretty sure it was Bucky who didn’t understand fashion. Seriously, no coat needed that many buttons. 

Bucky spotted Clint easily, probably since he was the only one in the lobby wearing a sparkly black and purple skating costume. He gave a quick wave before winding his way through the throng of second-rate reporters and folks who wanted a glimpse of the athletes without the expense of buying a ticket. 

“What’s up?” Bucky asked, breathless. Clint figured he’d be waiting longer based on Bucky’s seating assignment, so it looked like he’d jogged through the stands to meet him. “Shouldn’t you be with Nat and Fury waiting to see the results from the other skaters?” 

“I gotta get back soon, but had something I needed to do first.” 

Clint dropped to one knee and offered the stuffed rabbit up to Bucky. 

“Bucky Barnes, I love you more than anything. More than getting a gold metal at the Olympics. Would you please marry me?” 

Clint’s heart fell as he watched Bucky’s expression morph into shock and annoyance. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone the whole public proposal route. Cameras flashed and clicked around them as the reporters figured out what was going on. Just what he needed, photographic evidence of his marriage proposal being rejected exploding across social media. 

Clint was frozen in place as he watched Bucky’s hand go into his pocket. He was just going to stick his hands in his pockets and walk away with Clint’s heart and leave him kneeling in the lobby of an Olympic ice arena holding a stuffed rabbit. 

To Clint’s surprise, Bucky pulled a small black box out of his pocket instead of turning and walking away. Was that a ring box? 

Bucky dropped to one knee, mirroring Clint. He carefully pried the box open and set it on his knee to reveal a ring. A large circular amethyst was bracketed by two smaller sapphires. The stones were set between two curved bands of black gold laced with tiny diamonds. Clint’s jaw dropped as Bucky’s hand dropped from the box to cradle Clint’s hands beneath the rabbit.

“Clint, you absolute jerk. You beat me to this by proposing with a stuffed rabbit. I love you so much. Of course I’ll marry you.” 

For the second time that day, Clint found himself sobbing with tears of relief and joy. Bucky pushed the ring onto Clint’s finger before leaning forward and pulling Clint into a long kiss. Cameras continued to flash around them, but Clint could no longer bring himself to care. 

After what seemed like an eternity, yet no time at all, Clint forced himself to pull away from Bucky. “I really should get back to Natasha before she murders me,” he informed Bucky regretfully. 

“I’d say it’d be worth it, but I’d really like to marry you before she kills you,” Bucky informed him solemnly, brushing a stray tear off of Clint’s cheek. “I’ll be waiting for you after the medal ceremony.” Bucky planted a final kiss on Clint’s cheek before standing up and raising his eyebrows at the reporters. He plucked the stuffed rabbit out of Clint’s hand and walked back to the stands with a little extra swagger to his step. 

Clint somehow managed to get to his feet and wade his way through the throngs of people to get back to the locker room. He was still in a daze as he changed back into his figure skates and met Natasha and Fury next to the rink. 

Natasha’s eyes immediately focused on his left hand. She gave a him a satisfied nod and smiled. “I see congratulations are in order.” 

Clint’s eyes narrowed. “You knew, didn’t you? You totally knew.”

Natasha shrugged and ran her fingers through her hair. “I may have made some educated guesses that turned out to be right. Steve owes me twenty bucks now.” 

“You bet on me proposing?” Clint asked, appalled. 

“Natasha bets on everything,” Fury said. “You should know this by now. Also, congratulations. I expect to be invited to the wedding.” 

“I expect you to give me away,” Clint told him before risking his life and giving his coach a hug. To his surprise, Fury gave a hint of a smile and patted Clint on the back before pulling away. 

“I think that can be arranged.”   
……….

Clint leaned forward in an awkward bow as the gold medal was placed around his neck. He was holding a bouquet of flowers in his left hand, and Natasha’s hand in his right. He was desperately hoping he could remember all the words to the national anthem, and he still couldn’t believe that he was wearing an engagement ring and Bucky was going to marry him. It was official. Today was the best day of his entire life.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue!

Four years later:

“With us today are USA hockey player James “Bucky” Barnes, and speed skater Steve Rogers,” the sportscaster said, looking into the camera and gesturing to the two men sitting on the couch across from her. “Their story of overcoming huge setbacks to ultimately make their way to the Olympics has been what everyone is talking about this season.”

She paused for dramatic effect before gesturing to the screen behind her. Grainy home video footage of two young boys playing hockey on a pond faded into a clip of the same two boys playing with a youth hockey team. Their jerseys were loose and baggy, obviously meant for larger children. A narrator started speaking over the video as the footage played.

“Like many young boys, Steve Rogers and James “Bucky” Barnes grew up playing hockey in their hometown of Brooklyn, New York. Inseparable since childhood, the pair played together on youth teams before growing up to play for their local hockey team, the Howling Commandos.”

The video zoomed in on a team photo of the Howling Commandos, and continued to zoom in for a close up of Steve and Bucky. They were standing next to each other and laughing with their arms around each other’s shoulders.

“Rising through the ranks, Rogers would become the captain of the Howling Commandos, and Barnes their star goalie. With their sights set on the Olympics, everyone expected the talented best friends to see their dreams realized. Unfortunately, disaster would strike the young men in the winter of their twenty-second year.”

Stock footage of the New York City Metro played across the screen.

“A fight with members of a rival team on the way to a hockey game led to an accident that left the young Barnes an amputee.”

Dramatic music played and a photo of Bucky in a hospital bed appeared on the screen. Bucky was wearing a blue hospital gown and waving to the camera with his right hand. The stump of his left arm was covered in bandages, and an IV could be seen taped to his right forearm.

“At the next game against the team that had caused Bucky to lose his arm, a young Steve could not contain his anger and attacked the coach of the rival team.”

Shaky footage showing Steve jumping over the boards and wading through Hydra team members played across the screen. The video looked like it had been taken from a spectator with a cellphone camera. The video cut out as referees dragged Steve out of the Hydra box, and switched to an interview with Coach Carter.

“Do I think Steve trashed a promising hockey career?” Peggy asked in response to an unseen interviewer. “Well, Steve looked like he’d go far in hockey, but he’s certainly done well for himself in speed skating. Perhaps he’d have done equally well in hockey, but for Steve, standing up for what he believes is right has always been more important than any sport. As a coach, my official statement is that he displayed unsportsmanlike behavior that day. As a human being, I applaud Steve for taking a stance against hatred and bigotry.”

The interview with Peggy faded out to be replaced with a video of Steve on the ice with Coach Fury, practicing a figure skating jump.

The narrator continued. “With a career in hockey off the table, Steve Rogers turned to figure skating to fill the void hockey had left behind. Meanwhile, Bucky Barnes had turned to prescription narcotics to dull the pain from his amputation and what he thought was the loss of his hockey career.”

Stock photos of hands holding pills and pill bottles swirled across the screen as the music intensified.

“Fortunately, figure skater Clinton Barton and Bucky’s future husband discovered his drug problem and Bucky entered a rehab program.”

Footage of the Xavier Institute played on the screen before fading into an interview with Clint.

“That was a really scary time, you know?” Clint said into the camera. “When someone you love is struggling with addiction, it’s really hard to watch them go through that. You feel so helpless and you just have to believe they’ll be strong enough to beat the addiction. I got lucky. Not everyone gets that second chance.”

Clint’s interview faded out to be replaced with footage of Steve and Bucky on the ice with hockey sticks. They were wearing t-shirts and sweatpants, passing the puck back and forth as they skated across the rink. Bucky was wearing a prosthetic arm and seemed to be struggling to control his stick in the easy way Steve did.

“After getting out of rehab,” the narrator continued, “Bucky underwent surgery to implant a titanium rod in his left arm. This would eventually allow him greater use and mobility with his prosthetic arm, and improved stick handling while playing hockey.”

As the narrator talked, the video changed to show Bucky in his Howling Commandos goalie uniform, blocking shot after shot during a team practice. The footage then faded into footage from the locker room. Bucky pulled off his gloves and revealed a metal hand under his left glove. He stripped out of his jersey and pulled his left elbow pad off to reveal an entirely metal arm. He used that arm to pull off his right elbow pad in a slightly jerky but obviously well practiced motion.

“While Bucky was determinedly making up for lost time in his hockey career, Steve was struggling as a figure skater.”

The video switched to a compilation of short clips of Steve stumbling on the ice. About half of the clips were of him falling after attempting a jump or spin.

The last clip faded into an interview with Coach Fury. “When I took Steve on as a student, I could see he had that intense love of the ice you need to be a dedicated skater. Unfortunately, dedication only takes you so far and Steve lacked the innate elegance you need as a figure skater. After a couple of years we all had to face the fact he would never have what it takes to be competitive.”

The interview faded to black and the narration continued on an empty screen.

“Thankfully there would be one last chance for Steve Rogers to achieve his Olympic dreams on the ice.”

The black screen slowly brightened into a video of a young speed skater skating around a rink.

“Former Olympic speed skater Pietro Maximoff approached Rogers after being contacted by his coach, Nick Fury. Maximoff took Rogers as a student, and Rogers took to speed skating like a man possessed.”

The footage changed to Steve at a speed skating competition, finishing in front of a competitor by a narrow margin. The video zoomed out to reveal Bucky in the stands, cheering and waving an American flag.

“After many grueling years, and some unexpected setbacks, these boys from Brooklyn have finally made their way to the Olympic ice. For Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, childhood dreams really do come true.”

The video faded to credits, and the sportscaster turned back to Steve and Bucky to continue the interview.

“So James, how does it feel to be the poster child for overcoming adversity?”

“Please, call me Bucky,” Bucky said. “Well, to be honest, it feels a little strange. Every guy on the team, heck, every person at this Olympics, has had to sacrifice so much to get here. Sure, I’ve had some physical setbacks,” he said, shrugging his left shoulder, “but ultimately my struggle is the same struggle we all have. The struggle to keep going for the love of the sport, even when things get tough.

“During the early stages of my recovery I was having a hard time imagining myself being able to play hockey again, and someone very wise told me I just needed to get back out on the ice because he could see how the ice called to me. There’s like this siren call of frozen water, and I knew I couldn’t stay away.”

The sportscaster nodded and turned to Steve. “So Steve, tell us about that very fancy uniform you were wearing during the opening ceremonies.”

“Oh gosh,” Steve said, turning pink around his ears. “A couple of my friends got a hold of one of those rhinestone machines and decided to add some flair to my jacket as a nod to my very short lived career as a figure skater.”

“Tell us about your figure skating career.”

Steve laughed awkwardly. “I mean, I’d rather not. That video showed you more than enough. Let’s just say figure skaters are elegant and graceful and I’m neither of those things. Hockey was my first love, but speed skating has my heart now.”

“Speaking of love, what are these rumors we’re hearing of your love affair off the ice? Who’s the lucky girl you’re hoping to bring a gold medal home to?”

Steve bristled and Bucky quickly slung his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Stevie likes to keep his love life private,” he said before Steve could react violently. “I, on the other hand, love to talk about my husband. What do you want to know about Clint?”

The sportscaster blinked a few times before recovering. “Umm, how do you think your love life affects your performance on the ice? Does it make you nervous knowing your partner is out there watching?”

“Hmm, that’s a trick question,” Bucky answered. “I know Clint would support me either way. His confidence in me is one of the main reasons I could get back on the ice. But his partner Natasha might kill me if I perform badly, so I always make sure to play my best.”

Steve nodded vehemently. “Natasha’s terrifying. She’ll motivate anyone to do their best.”

“It sounds like you both have a lot of respect for Ms. Romanov.”

“Have you met her?” Bucky asked, incredulous. “She flies like 20 feet through the air and lands on the edge of a blade that’s less than a quarter inch thick! Of course I respect her. She could kill me with her little finger.”

“She’s rumored to have killed someone in a pool once,” Steve added helpfully.

“Wow, uhh, she seems to have quite the reputation,” the sportscaster faltered before taking a quick glance at the teleprompter. “So, getting back on topic of love lives, Bucky, you recently did a photoshoot with your husband for Out Magazine.”

“Ooo, yeah, that was lots of fun.”

“We got copies of some of the outtakes, and I was hoping you could explain what’s going on in some of these.” The sportscaster gestured back to the screen behind them, which had been replaced with an image of Bucky in his USA hockey uniform and Clint in his free skate costume. Clint was crouched on the ice in a pivot position while holding Bucky’s wrist in one hand and spinning Bucky low to the ground in a death spiral. The photographer had skillfully managed to capture both of their faces in the image. Clint’s was a mask of intense concentration, biting his lip with his eyes narrowed and focused on holding the position. Bucky’s face was one of absolute terror. His eyes were wide and wild, nostrils flared, and forehead beaded with sweat.

“Oh my god, I need a copy of that picture!” Steve burst out. “I’m going to blow it up and hang it on the wall behind the couch.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “We did that death spiral like six times before they gave up on capturing the shot. I think that one might have been the best of the lot. I kept arguing that I should be wearing my helmet, but they they said it would ruin the ‘look’ and Clint just gave me those puppy eyes of his and asked why I didn’t trust him.”

“Speaking of trust, can you tell us about this photo?” The sportscaster gestured to a new picture that had appeared on the screen. The pair was in front of a green screen, still in their outfits. Bucky had lifted Clint over his head, and Clint appeared to be trying to hold an acrobatic pose with one hand holding his skate blade and pulling his leg behind him. The dramatic effect was somewhat marred, however, by the hand Clint had splayed across Bucky’s face and the fact he looked about to fall over.

“Oh man, you should have heard the things Natasha said to Clint while we were taking the lift photos. I think my favorite was her telling him that he looked like a drunk walrus. I was just glad they let us do these off the ice on this thick padded mat, because Clint fell a lot and with only one real hand I wasn’t in a great position to catch him.”

“So you’re telling me you dropped your husband on the floor multiple times, and he still trusted you to pick him up and try it again?”

Bucky laughed. “Nobody ever said Clint was sane.”

“Clearly that applies to both of you if this picture is any indication.” The sportscaster said, referring to a new picture that had popped up on the screen. The pair was back on the ice, Bucky out of his hockey gear wearing his opening ceremony track suit, and Clint now in his short program outfit. Clint was facing the camera with his legs spread wide, supporting Bucky who was straddled across Clint’s hips, upside down with his legs in the air. Clint’s hands were clasped behind Bucky’s back with his arms wrapped around Bucky’s thighs, and Bucky’s arms were reaching behind his head, almost as if he were surrendering. Both of their faces looked shocked, almost as if they weren't sure how they'd gotten in that position.

“Hey, that’s not an outtake,” Bucky protested. “That photo made it into the article.”

“You’re right,” the sportscaster admitted. The photo on the screen zoomed out to show a magazine page with a quote from Bucky captioning the picture.

“You said, ‘Before I knew it, I found myself head over heels for Clint’,” the sportscaster continued, reading the caption.

“That’s like the physical embodiment of that statement,” Steve said with a laugh.

“It really is. That’s not the photo that made it into the cover, though,” Bucky felt he had to point out.

“No, it’s not,” the sportscaster said, looking behind her. “Do we have a picture of the cover?” she asked her team.

A new image popped up on the screen a few moments later. Clint and Bucky were standing in front of a brick wall, Clint still in his short program outfit and Bucky in his tracksuit. Bucky had his arm slung over Clint’s shoulder with his right hand gripping his left wrist. His wedding ring could be prominently seen on his right hand, and he was looking at Clint with an expression of complete adoration. Clint was turned slightly to face Bucky, with a smirk on his face. His hands hung at his sides, loose and relaxed.

“Wow,” the sportscaster said, blinking at the photo. “I guess that's what love looks like.”

Bucky smiled. “Yeah, it really is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. I can't believe this is over. 
> 
> All the thanks in the world to [Bedlamwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bedlamwolf/pseuds/Bedlamwolf), who not only encouraged me when I said "So I have this crazy idea", but also provided cheerleading and so much beta reading that she can quote sections of the story. 
> 
> I also have AMAZING artwork from my lovely artist partner [buckysnowangel](https://buckysnowangel.tumblr.com),[ found here](https://buckysnowangel.tumblr.com/post/175720949636/didnt-figure-id-fall-for).


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